THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


— 

'1 


fi 


CORALIE  AND  ROSALIE. 


THE  LITTLE  SISTERS  OF  CHARITY. 


*  It  saves  us  from  a  thousand  snares 

To  mind  religion  young; 
Grace  will  preserve  our  following  years, 
And  make  our  virtues  strong."  • 


BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF 

"THE  MOUSE  IN  THE  PANTRY.' 


NEW  YORK: 

JJrot.    Episcopal   £»untiu>    .School 
aiiti   Cliurcfj   iJook  Socfctn, 

7C2     BROADWAY. 
1859. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1859, 
By  the  GENERAL  PKOTESTAHT  EPISCOPAL  Sr.Nn.tr  SCHOOL  UHIOK 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  United  States  for  the  Soulhern 
District  of  New  York. 


REN.VIE,  SHEA  &  LINDSAY, 

nxBorvraiui  AND  ELICTBOTYPIM 

81,83,  485  Centr,-»tr,-,l. 


TZ6 

Aical 


PUBLISHED 


of  9t. 

HARTFORD,  CONN 


Co  mg  $jttt, 

THIS  BOOK  IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 
BY  HER   A  UNT. 


rrLAND,  Sept..  1853— 
Feast  of  St.  Michael  and  All  Angel*. 


"  MY   LITTLE    CHILDREN,   LET    US  NOT    LOVE   IN    WORD,   NEI- 
THEH   IN  TONGUE  J     BUT  IN   DEED  AND   IN  TRUTH." 

1  JOHN,  III.  18. 


CORALIE  AND  ROSALIE, 

THE  LITTLE  SISTEES  OF  CHARITY. 


CHAPTER   I. 

"WE  are  almost  home.  Come!  wake  up, 
little  ones."  The  speaker  was  a  portly-look- 
ing, silver-haired  gentleman,  who  had  been 
jostled  out  of  a  sound  sleep  by  a  sudden  turn 
of  the  carriage.  "  Dear  me !  I  think  I  must 
have  been  napping  it  myself.  "Where  are  you 
both  ?" 

"  Here,  sir,"  said  a  faint  little  voice  at  his 
side. 

"Both  crowded  in  there,  eh?  "Why,  you 
are  not  big  enough  to  be  worth  much.  This 
travelling  is  a  tiresome  business,  and  I  am 
heartily  glad  to  be  on  dry  land  again.  Come ! 


8  COKALIE   AND  ROSALIE, 

don't  go  to  sleep  again,  for  we  are  almost 
home." 

""We  have  not  been  asleep,  sir,"  said  the 
same  little  voice. 

"You  have  not,  eh?  What  is  the  use  of 
saying  that?  Children  are  always  going  to 
sleep.  "When  I  was  a  child,  I  was  forever 
taking  naps  on  the  sly ;  especially  in  the  dark. 
This  ride  is  interminable ;  I  hope  we'll  be 
home  in  time  for  tea.  Here !  one  of  you  see 
if  you  can  tell  me  the  time ;  for  I  cannot  see 
without  my  glasses."  He  took  out  his  watch, 
and  held  it  in  the  rays  of  one  of  the  gas  lamps 
in  the  street,  as  they  passed. 

"  Ten  minutes  past  eight,  sir."  The  voice 
was  a  trifle  fainter  this  time. 

"  Who  is  that,  now  ?" 

"  Kosalie,  sir." 

"Ah  yes,  I  am  sure  to  know  it — the  echo 
chirp,  like  two  little  wrens.  Well,  we'll  soon 
be  home  now.  Cheer  up  !"  At  this  moment, 
the  carriage  gave  such  a  lurch  on  one  side  of 
the  sfreet,  that  it  drew  the  gentleman's  at- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  9 

tention  to  bad  streets,  bad  driving,  stupid 
drivers,  and  a  host  of  other  disagreeables,  and 
he  quite  forgot  his  first  intention,  to  entertain 
the  little  girls,  until  the  carriage  stopped  at  his 
own  door. 

"  No — yes !  why,  we  are  really  home.  Hal- 
loo, you  stupid !  get  down,  and  pull  that  bell, 
and  don't  stop  until  the  door  is  open.  Come, 
hurry  yourself,  sir !  I  cannot  carry  children, 
bags,  bundles,  and  trunks,  and  ring  up  the 
folks  too." 

"  We  can  walk,  sir,"  mildly  urged  a  little 
voice. 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it.  That  was  Coralie  that 
spoke  then,  I  know.  Hold  on  tight,  little 
wren ;  now  for  the  other  one  on  my  right 
arm — that  is  it."  And  Mr.  Somerville,  who 
seemed  utterly  to  ignore  his  nieces'  having 
feet,  or  else  the  ability  to  use  them,  carried 
them  up  the  steps  into  the  hall,  and  then  into 
the  parlor, — not  stopping  till  he  had  placed 
them  side  by  side  in  a  huge  arm-chair. 

"  There,  Charlotte,  how  are  you  ?    A  kiss 


10  CORALIE   AND  ROSALIE, 

first.  Why,  Ernest,  my  boy,  give  us  your 
hand.  Come,  little  ones,  kiss  your  aunt  and 
cousin,  and  make  friends."  . 

The  little  girls  got  out  of  their  chair,  and 
walked  to  their  strange  aunt,  and  put  up  their 
faces  for  her  kiss ;  the  same  to  the  young  man, 
who  laughed  and  asked  them  if  they  would 
lay  off  their  bonnets  and  stay  to  tea,  in  a  way 
that  seemed  to  amuse  the  old  gentleman  ex- 
ceedingly, for  he  slapped  him  on  the  back, 
and  said — 

"Ah!  Ernest,  you're  a  sad  rogue."  Then 
turning  to  the  children, — "Now,  little  folks, 
off  with  your  bonnets.  I  suspect  they  are  half 
famished,  Charlotte ;  and  as  for  myself,  I  think 
a  hearty  tea  will  not  come  amiss." 

Mrs.  Somerville  stated  that  tea  had  been 
waiting  some  time,  and  arose  to  lead  the  way 
to  the  dining-room. 

The  poor  little  maidens  could  make  nothing 
of  a  meal.  They  crumbled  their  bread  and 
made  ineffectual  attempts  to  swallow  the  hot 
tea,  and  looked  so  homesick  and  tired  that  Mr. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHAEITT.  11 

Somerville,  to  his  own  great  relief,  made  a 
discovery, — that  they  were  sleepy.  Acting 
upon  this  hint,  Mrs.  Somerville  rang  for  her 
maid,  and  requested  her  to  take  the  children 
up  to  the  nursery  to  Honor. 

"  Indeed,  it's  I  that  will  care  for  them,  and 
get  them  right  to  bed,"  said  kind  old  Honor, 
taking  them  in  her  capacious  arms.  "  It's 
tired  they  are,  and  a  night's  rest  will  be  the 
best  thing  for  them."  And  with  a  motherly 
kiss  bestowed  on  each  pale  face,  she  saw  them 
safely  tucked  in  bed,  not,  however,  without 
many  kind  words  and  looks. 

"  O  Cora,"  said  Rosalie,  when  the  nurse  had 
left  them,  "it  is  so  strange  here,  and  I  am 
so  unhappy!"  A  strong  sob  came  with  the 
last  words  as  she  sat  up  in  the  bed,  and  looked 
around  the  strange,  dark  room. 

"  Ah  !  papa  has  gone,  and  left  us  alone  in 
the  world." 

"  And  such  a  big,  big  world,  Cora  dear — 
such  a  lonesome  place  for  us !"  And  Rosalie 
leaned  against  her  sister,  and  cried  bitterly. 


12  COKAT.TF.  AND  EOSALIE, 

"  Poor  little  Eose,  we  will  try  to  think  of 
our  promise  to  papa, — to  love  Uncle  Charles 
and  be  good  little  girls." 

*•  But  that  will  not  be  like  having  papa  with 
us,  and  living  in  our  own  dear  home,  Cora." 

"  I  know  that,  Kose,  but  we  can  try  to  be 
happy  here,  and  mind  aunt  and  uncle ;  then 
perhaps  they  will  love  us  after  awhile — only 
it  is  lonely  now  all  alone."  And  the  little 
consoler  ended  in  a  burst  of  tears,  as  she  flung 
her  arms  around  her  sister's  neck.  It  was  but 
for  a  moment,  though ;  for,  quickly  recovering 
herself,  she  raised  her  head  and  spoke  soothing 
words,  patted  the  pillow  softly,  and  laid  Kosa- 
lie's  tired  head  gently  back,  and  with  a  low, 
murmuring,  cooing  noise,  lulled  her  to  rest. 

"  Poor  little  wee  ones,"  said  Honor,  looking 
in  upon  the  sleeping  children  before  going  to 
her  cot-bed  in  the  adjoining  room ;  "it  makes 
my  heart  sore  to  see  them  looking  so  lonesome 
like.  I'll  do  my  best  for  them,  and  that  is  the 
truth."  She  gave  her  nose  a  long  blow  as  she 
turned  away. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHAKITY.  13 

Mrs.  Somerville  was  a  very  good-tempered 
lady, — very  fond  of  driving  out  with  her 
handsome  son,  and  very  fond  of  her  ease,  and 
a  quiet  house  when  at  home.  One  can  im- 
agine, therefore,  that  she  was  not  exactly  the 
person  to  have  the  care  of  her  husband's 
orphan  nieces.  Kind  she  certainly  was  when 
they  met,  which  was  very  seldom, — kind  in 
giving  them  a  nod  and  smile  of  recognition,  or 
extending  two  fingers  for  them  to  shake,  and 
thinking  that  all  that  was  expected  of  her.  It 
never  crossed  her  mind  that  they  were  pining 
for  affectionate  caresses,  and  a  parent's  love. 
They  had  their  own  apartments  in  one  part 
of  the  house,  and  old  Honor  to  tend  them ; 
were  brought  down  to  the  parlor  every  day 
for  a  certain  length  of  time,  and  on  Sunday 
nights  took  tea  with  the  family ;  but  were  so 
intensely  quiet  and  timid,  and  so  glad  to  get 
back  to  Honor  again,  that  Mrs.  Somerville  felt 
it  a  relief  when  the  evening  was  over. 

Mr.  Somerville's  method  of  entertaining 
them  was  carrying  them  to  the  window  to  look 


14:  COBALIE   AND   BOSALIE, 

out,  and  around  the  parlors  to  see  the  paintings 
that  hung  upon  the  walls, — always  telling 
them  to  ask  for  any  thing  they  wanted,  and  to 
be  good  children,  and  mind  Aunt  Charlotte. 

But  in  the  kind  nurse's  company  the  chil- 
dren gradually  became  accustomed  to  their 
new  home.  They  were  more  quiet  than  chil- 
dren generally,  and  cared  very  little  to  play 
with  the  dolls  and  toys  with  which  their  uncle 
liberally  presented  them.  Rosalie  was  too 
languid  and  homesick ;  and  Coralie  preferred 
sewing  for  her  doll  to  playing  with  it,  and 
would  rather  listen  to  Honor's  stories,  or  read 
to  herself,  than  indulge  in  the  restless  amuse- 
ments of  children. 

"  This  is  a  dreary  night  for  the  poor  bodies 
without  a  roof  to  shelter  them  from  the  cold 
storm,"  said  Honor,  drawing  up  her  big  chair 
to  the  nursery  fire,  a  snowy  November  after- 
noon. The  room  showed  no  signs  of  gloom. 
A  bright  fire  blazed  in  the  grate,  and  Honor 
in  front  of  it,  and  the  little  ones,  in  small  arm- 
chairs opposite  to  each  other,  each  by  the  side 


THE   LITTLE   8I6TEBS   OF   CHAKITY.  15 

of  the  fire,  made  altogether  a  very  comfortable 
twilight  picture  to  look  in  upon.  Dreary  and 
desolate  it  was  to  turn  to  the  window,  and  see 
through  the  curtains  the  snow  whirling  down ; 
while  the  wind  wailed  and  moaned  so  bitterly, 
BO  relentlessly  cold,  that  Rosalie,  who  had  never 
seen  such  a  storm  before,  was  frightened,  and 
at  last  drew  her  chair  near  to  Honor's,  and 
laid  her  head  in  the  old  woman's  lap. 

"  Aunty  dear,"  said  Coralie,  who  had  been 
gazing  silently  into  the  fire  for  some  minutes, 
"do  those  good  ladies  you  told  of  in  your 
story  go  out  in  the  cold,  dark  nights  like 
this?" 

"  Sure  and  they  do,  my  jewel,  any  time  at 
all  to  do  a  good  turn  for  a  fellow-creature. 
That  is  all  they  live  for — and  a  blessed  thing 
it  must  be  to  be  always  doing  somebody  a 
good  turn." 

"  Oh,  yes !"  Coralie  rubbed  her  small  hands 
together  in  her  eagerness,  as  she  answered. 
"Aunty,  if  I  was  a  woman,  that  is  what  I 
would  be, — a  sister  of  charity, — and  go  all 


16  COB  ALEE  AND  K08ALIE, 

over,  and  pick  up  the  little  girls  without  any 
fathers  and  mothers,  and  try  to  do  them  good." 

"  And  let  me  help  you,  Cora  dear?" 

"  Why,  of  course,  little  Rose ;  how  could  I 
do  it  unless  you  helped  me  ?  O  aunty  !  if  I 
only  could — if  I  only  could  be  of  some  use !  I 
wish  I  was  grown  up." 

"  Ah !  my  pets,  'tis  the  Lord  puts  the  good 
feelings  into  your  hearts,  and  the  good  seed 
will  never  run  to  waste." 

"  Do  you  think  God  put  that  thought  into 
Cora's  heart,  aunty  ?" 

"  Ay,  ay,  rosebud."  Honor  patted  the  little 
head  that  lay  in  her  lap. 

"  Then  it  is  not  wrong  for  me  to  wish  BO  to 
do  something  for  somebody, — to  do  some 
good?"  asked  Coralie. 

"  Indeed,  then,  sorra  a  harm  in  it,  my  dar- 
ling, that  I  can  see.  How  that  wind  roars  in 
the  chimney !" 

"Rose,  if  we  only  could!"  continued  Coralie. 
"  How  sorry  I  feel  for  the  poor  children  that 
have  no  home  to-night."  She  walked  to  the 


THE   LITTLE   SI8TEE8   OF   CHARITY.  17 

window  and  peered  out.  It  was  dusky  twi- 
light, and  for  a  time  she  leaned  against  the 
casement,  looking  thoughtfully  down  into  the 
street.  Suddenly  her  attention  was  attracted. 
"  Eose,  do  come  here,"  she  said.  "  Can  you 
see  ?  Is  that  not  a  boy  sitting  down  on  the 
ground,  the  other  side  of  the  tree?" 

"  It  is  something,  Cora,  for  it  moves." 

"  Yes — yes !  Oh,  aunty  dear,  can  I  bring 
him  in  ?"  And  the  usually  quiet  child  turned 
eagerly  to  the  door,  and  before  Honor  could 
answer,  ran  from  the  room,  down  stairs,  opened 
the  front  door,  and  beckoned  the  boy  to  her. 
She  travelled  as  quickly  back  to  the  nursery. 
"  Here  he  is.  Poor  boy !  he  is  wet  and  rag- 
ged, and  so  cold  !  Take  my  chair  and  sit  close 
up  to  the  fire.  Aunty  dear,  how  he  shivers !" 

"  His  feet  are  all  wet,"  said  Eosalie,  half 
crying. 

"  You're  crazy  to  be  out  such  a  night.  What 
brought  you  to  the  street  ?  You  better  be  off 
home  as  soon  as  you  get  a  good  warming," 
said  Honor. 

23 


COKALIE  A3JD   BO8ALIE, 

"  Haven't  any.  I'm  all  by  myself.  My !  but 
that's  the  fine  fire." 

"  Have  you  no  father  nor  mother  ?" 

"  They're  both  on  'em  dead.  Mickey  brought 
me  to  this  country,  and  he's  dead  too,  and  I 
am  all  alone  now.  But  I  niver  expected  to 
see  such  a  fine  fire  the  night."  And  the  boy 
gave  a  shrill  little  whistle,  and  put  his  head  on 
one  side,  drawing  down  his  eye  so  knowingly, 
that  both  of  the  children  smiled. 

"  I'll  not  be  the  one  to  let  the  orphan  want 
for  food,  when  I  can  get  it  for  him.  But  first, 
my  pretty  ones,  the  mistress's  leave  to  keep 
him  for  the  night." 

Mrs.  Somerville's  permission  gained,  ar- 
rangements were  made  to  stow  the  boy  away 
in  one  of  the  garret  rooms,  for  a  night's  rest. 
After  a  hearty  meal  and  the  influence  of  a 
warm  fire,  the  boy,  who  gave  his  name  as  Pat 
Flynn,  grew  quite  lively, — said  he  was  going 
to  get  his  living  somehow ;  he  had  not  yet 
made  up  his  mind  in  what  way ;  but  it  was 
his  determination  to  try ;  and  he  had  started 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY. 

out  that  very  day  for  the  purpose.  In  grati- 
tude for  the  kindness  he  had  received,  he 
offered  then  and  there  to  teach  the  young 
ladies  to  whistle,  and  dance  an  Irish  reel, 
which  they  laughingly  declined. 


CORALIE   AND   BOSALIE, 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  next  morning  Honor,  going  down  for 
the  children's  breakfast,  found  Pat  hard  at 
work  in  the  back  kitchen,  cleaning  knives  and 
whistling  fiercely. 

"  The  sunshine-  brighten  you,  ma'am,  this 
fine  mornin'.  How  are  the  pretty  ladies? 
Sure,  ma'am,  they're  as  like  as  these  two 
knives,  barring  the  sharpness ;  I  thought  each 
one  was  the  other  one  all  the  time."  And  Pat, 
who  had  left  off  work  to  make  his  bow,  be- 
took himself  to  his  knife-scouring  with  fresh 
vigor. 

"  Well,  Honor,  I  am  weak  with  laughing  at 
that  boy,"  said  the  cook,  putting  her  red  face 
in  at  the  door.  "  As  true  as  I  stand  here,  he 
has  been  going  on  just  that  way  ever  since 
daylight.  First  he  polished  the  master's  boots, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  21 

then  Mr.  Ernest's — as  bright  as  diamonds  he 
has  them  too ;  then  he  shovelled  away  the 
snow  from  the  stoop  and  walk,  besides  clean- 
ing the  yard  for  me,  and  dancing  around 
between  times.  Oh,  he's  a  knowing  one !" 

"  Holloo  there !  who  is  that  whistling  down 
stairs?" 

The  cook  went  hurriedly  back  to  her  beef- 
steak, that  she  was  broiling  for  breakfast,  and 
Pat  as  suddenly  ceased  whistling,  and  said — 

"  Tis  me,  sir." 

"  And  who  is  me,  I  should  like  to  know  ?" 

"  Pat  Flynn,  sir."  And  the  boy  dropped 
his  knife  and  cloth,  caught  a  pair  of  boots  in 
each  hand,  and  ran  up  stairs. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,  Pat  Flynn  ?" 

"  The  mistress  gave  me  lodgings  last  night, 
sir." 

"  Oh,  you  ragged  specimen !  she  did,  eh  ? 
Come  in  the  dining-room,  and  let  us  have  a 
look  at  you.  Why,  Charlotte,  it  seems  you 
have  turned  Lady  Bountiful.  You  did  not 
tell  me  about  this  boy." 


22  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

Mrs.  Somerville  raised  her  languid  eyes,  as 
she  said,  "  The  children  asked  me  if  some  boy 
could  be  kept  all  night,  and  I  suppose  this 
must  be  the  one." 

"  Have  you  no  home,  my  man  ?" 
"  Sorra  a  one  but  this,  sir."  And  the  little 
freckled  face  was  turned  shrewdly  up  to  Mr. 
Somerville,  and  it  said,  as  plainly  as  little  face 
could  say,  "  Youll  not  be  able  to  resist  that 
appeal."  "  I  am  all  alone,  sir.  Mickey  died 
a  week  ago,  and  not  a  hand's  turn  could  I  find 
to  do  since.  But  if  you  keep  me,  sir,  you'll 
niver  repent.  I  can  do  all  sorts  of  work — run 
errands,  wait  on  the  door,  scour  knives,  and 
scrub." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  in  this  country  ?" 
"  As  good  as  a  year,  sir.  Mickey  took  sick 
on  shipboard,  and  niver  knew  a  well  day 
afterwards.  We  went  to  the  hospital — and  he's 
after  dying  now."  The  boy  smothered  some- 
thing very  like  a  sob  in  a  whistle,  as  he  finished 
speaking. 

Ernest  coming  in  at  this  moment,  his  fathei 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  23 

appealed  to  him ;  and  as  be  good-naturedly 
gave  his  opinion  in  the  boy's  favor,  Mr.  Som- 
erville  said  he  might  stay  for  the  present. 

"  But  mind,"  he  said,  as  Pat  was  leaving  the 
room,  "  if  I  catch  you  up  to  any  tricks,  off  you 
go." 

"  All  right,  sir."  And  Pat  ran  down  to  the 
kitchen,  danced  around  the  cook  for  a  minute 
or  more,  and  then  returned  to  his  knife-clean- 
ing in  the  little  back  kitchen. 

From  that  day,  he  became  almost  indispen- 
sable in  the  house.  The  boots  shone  as  boots 
never  shone  before ;  the  front  stoop  and  walk 
had  not  their  match  for  cleanliness ;  and  it  was 
acknowledged,  by  every  member  of  the  family, 
that  there  never  was  such  a  boy  to  run  errands. 
As  he  saved  the  waiter  many  steps,  she  was  a 
good  friend  to  him ;  as  the  cook  found  him 
handy  in  the  kitchen,  she  was  glad  to  have 
him  around;  and  as  the  coachman  was  not 
called  upon,  as  of  old,  to  run  errands,  he  was 
disposed  to  favor  him.  And  as  he  was  also 
as  frolicsome  as  a  kitten,  and  full  of  Irish  wit, 


24  COEALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

he  kept  them  in  such  a  good  humor  that  he 
soon  became  very  popular  in  the  kitchen.  Mr. 
Somerville  noticed  him,  and  was  pleased  that 
he  behaved  well;  and  after  a  fortnight  had 
passed,  concluded  to  inquire  about  him  at  the 
hospital  where  the  brother  had  died.  He  was 
doubly  pleased  to  find  the  boy's  statement 
true ;  and  knowing  now  that  he  was  so  utterly 
alone  in  the  world,  told  him  that  as  long  as  he 
behaved  himself  he  would  keep  him. 

So  Pat,  with  a  grateful  heart,  strove  to  make 
himself  of  use  to  everybody.  He  was  quick 
enough  in  his  movements  at  all  times,  but  it 
was  amusing  to  see  him  do  any  thing  for  the 
young  ladies.  His  legs  moved  with  such  rapid- 
ity, that  Rosalie  said  "  he  rolled ;"  and  when 
the  sisters  dined  with  their  aunt  and  uncle,  or 
come  to  tea  Sunday  evenings,  Pat  was  fairly 
bewitched.  He  would  come  in  and  wait  on 
the  "  wee  ladies."  Tidy  Sarah  could  not  keep 
him  away ;  and  there,  stationed  behind  their 
chairs, — with  eyes  turning  from  side  to  side, 
and  distended  cheeks, — he  would  thrust  a  plate 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  25 

of  bread  or  a  glass  of  water  at  them  every 
second,  constantly  on  the  watch  to  hand  them 
something — with  a  glow  of  satisfaction  on  his 
face  that  made  it  well  worth  seeing. 

Mr.  Somerville  engaged  a  daily  governess 
for  his  nieces — a  quiet,  middle-aged  woman, 
who  came  four  hours  every  day.  With  this 
exception,  their  time  was  at  their  own  disposal ; 
and  out  of  school  hours,  one  hour  in  the  after- 
noon or  evening  was  devoted  to  instructing 
Pat  in  spelling  and  reading. 

After  their  own  school  hours,  they  walked 
out,  accompanied  by  the  old  nurse.  Once  in 
awhile,  Mrs.  Somerville  took  them  with  her 
in  the  carriage,  for  a  short  drive ;  but  the 
children  were  so  afraid  of  her,  that  it  was  no 
enjoyment  to  them.  They  could  not  trust 
their  own  voices,  and  if  Ernest  was  with  them 
it  was  even  worse.  He  would  tease  his  cousins 
the  whole  time — laugh  at  them,  and  call  them 
"  the  little  nuns ;"  and  take  a  deal  of  trouble 
to  "  draw  them  out,"  as  he  expressed  it,  which 
generally  ended  in.  utterly  silencing  them,  and 


26  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

sending  Rosalie's  crimson,  tearful  face  almost 
into  her  sister's  lap. 

He  was  not  intentionally  unkind  —  only 
thoughtless ;  and  half  to  amuse  them,  and 
from  real  ignorance  of  the  way  to  do  it,  and 
perhaps  a  little  to  amuse  himself,  worried 
them.  Mrs.  Somerville  enjoyed  it — she  always 
did  any  of  Ernest's  tricks ;  for  that  handsome- 
faced  youth  was  the  very  idol  of  his  mother's 
heart — and  it  was  a  marvel,  after  years  of  in- 
dulgence and  flattery,  that  he  was  really  so 
good-natured  a  fellow. 

His  little  cousins, — shy,  silent,  timid,  and 
quaint-looking  in  their  black  dresses  and  bon- 
nets,— were  very  comical  objects  to  the  young 
man ;  and  timid  Rosalie  after  a  while  grew  so 
afraid  of  him,  that  she  would  run  away  to 
their  room  if  she  heard  his  step  in  the  hall, 
and  keep  hidden  till  he  had  gone  out.  But 
happily  Ernest's  attention  was  not  often  taken 
up  with  them.  He  was  seldom  home,  and 
they  managed  to  keep  out  of  his  way,  except- 
ing on  Sunday  evenings,  when,  tired  of  books, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  27 

and  papers,  and  of  his  own  company,  he  both- 
ered the  children  for  the  purpose  of  keeping 
himself  awake. 

The  little  girls'  pleasantest  times  were  the 
evenings  in  the  nursery.  There,  seated  by  the 
cheerful  fire,  Pat  also  an  eager  listener,  Honor 
would  beguile  the  time  with  stories  of  her  life 
in  Ireland  ;  and  at  these  times,  too,  Coralie 
would  tell  of  her  great  plan  of  doing  good 
when  she  grew  up ;  and  Pat  would  listen  de- 
lightedly,— proud  that  his  young  ladies  would 
take  him  in  their  confidence.  He  made  great 
exertions  to  learn  all  his  teachers  endeavored 
to  impart  to  him,  not  only  in  mere  reading 
and  spelling,  but  in  giving  up  some  bad  hab- 
its,— one  of  which  was  using  improper  words. 

Many  strange  talks  they  would  have  to- 
gether. Pat,  in  his  eager  desire  to  learn, 
would  ask  such  odd  questions  that  the  little 
girls  would  be  puzzled  to  answer.  At  these 
times,  Coralie,  generally  the  spokeswoman, 
would  say — 

"  I  think,  Pat,  somehow,  we  will  know  when 


28  COKALIE   AND  KOSALIE, 

we  grow  up ;  but  at  any  rate,  we  must  say  our 
prayers  and  read  the  Bible ;  and  if  we  try  to  do 
it  right,  I  suppose  it  will  come  after  awhile." 

"  And  renounce  the  devil  and  all  his  works," 
said  Pat,  as  if  talking  to  himself.  They  were 
sitting  together  in  the  nursery,  having  one  of 
their  talks.  Honor  had  left  the  room  shortly 
before.  "  It  seems  aisy,  miss,  when  we  say  it 
off  straight  that  way,  but  it's  surprising  how 
hard  it  is.  It's  worth  trying  for,  miss  dear,  I 
suppose  ?" 

"  Indeed  it  is,  Pat ;  to  go  to  heaven  when  we 
die.  Think  of  that !" 

"  It  is  so  nice,  miss,  to  hear  you  say  it.  I 
get  it  more  into  my  head  when  you  tell  it  to 
me." 

"  I  think  it  is  part  not  wishing  for  things, — 
I  mean  when  I  wish  to  have  papa  back,"  said 
Rosalie.  "  I  suppose  it  makes  the  wish  wrong, 
because  I  get  so  cross  and  unhappy  somehow ; 
so  wishing  must  be  one  of  the  bad  things  to 
renounce." 

"  Ah !  then.  Miss  Rosie  dear,  I  cannot  see 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  29 

how  ye  get  troubled  that  way ;  but  it's  the 
rale  bad  ones  like  me  that  might  get  bothered 
considerable — and  would,  only  for  the  recol- 
liction  Miss  Cora  and  you  bring  me  to  in 
studying  the  catechism." 

"  About  the  promises  in  baptism,  you  mean, 
that  makes  us  members  of  Christ  and  children 
of  God." 

"  That  same,  Miss  Cora  dear." 

"  Rosie,  how  papa  used  to  say  that  over  and 
over  when  he  looked  at  us,  and  ask  us  never 
to  forget  it !" 

"  Yes,  the  time  when  he  was  very  sick, 
Cora."  Rosalie's  lip  quivered  as  she  spoke. 

"  Ah !  miss."  said  Pat,  looking  from  one  to 
the  other,  "  I  could  not  have  known  it  but  for 
ye'es  both." 

"  You  say  you  were  baptized  when  a  baby, 
Pat.  So  it  is  all  the  same — only  you  had  no 
one  to  remind  you  before." 

"  Strange,  miss,  that  it  should  be  through 
ye'es  I'm  made  to  think  about  it.  It  seems 
quare  to  think,  instead  of  being  so  alone  as  I 


30  CORALIE   AND  KOSALIE, 

felt  after  Mickey's  death,  that  there  is  a  God 
in  heaven  watching  over  me.  I  wish  the 
knowing  it  wouldn't  get  out  of  my  head  so, 
sometimes." 

"  I  suppose  it  is  good  to  keep  on  trying  to 
like  things  that  are  right,  even  if  they  do  not 
seem  pleasant,"  said  Coralie.  "  I  feel  so  tired 
in  church,  in  sermon  times,  some  Sundays. 
The  minister  here  is  not  at  all  like  dear  papa, 
and  it  is  so  unlike  our  own  church  at  home. 
Papa  wanted  us  to  go  every  Sunday,  and  I 
ought  not  to  think  the  sermon  long." 

"  Was  your  papa  a  minister,  miss  dear  ?" 

"  Oh,  yes ;  and  so  good,  and  kind  to  every- 
body," said  Rosalie.  "  How  we  used  to  love 
to  go  to  church  at  home,  Cora !"  Rose  bright- 
ened at  the  thought  of  her  own  dear  home. 
"  But  I  used  to  get  tired  in  sermon  time  at 
home,  too,  but  not  as  often  as  I  do  here. 
When  I  don't  understand,  1  try  to  think  that 
papa  would  like  us  to  go,  and  that  helps  take 
away  the  tired  part  sometimes." 

"  Well,  I'll  go,  whenever  the  Master  gives 


THE   LITTLE   8ISTEKS   OF   CHARITY.  31 

me  lave,"  said  Pat ;  "  for,  if  you  say  so,  I  know 
it  is  not  right  to  be  staying  home." 

As  time  passed,  the  children  grew  more  and 
more  fond  of  the  kind  old  nurse,  and  of  Pat, 
their  willing  friend  and  true  champion  in  all 
difficulties. 

It  was  curious  to  see  the  boy's  behavior 
when  with  them — such  a  mixture  of  respect 
and  protection; — curious  to  see  his  earnest 
endeavors  to  do  their  teaching  credit ;  the 
battles  he  had  with  the  alphabet,  before  he 
mastered  it ;  and  when  he  had  mastered  it,  the 
unheard-of  exertions  he  made  to  spell;  and 
how,  after  all,  he  became  so  hopelessly  entan- 
gled in  words  of  two  syllables,  and  grew  so 
mystified,  that  Coralie  was  almost  in  despair 
of  ever  getting  at  the  catechism,  and  accord- 
ingly formed  the  plan  of  making  him  repeat 
the  answers  after  her.  This  succeeded  admi- 
rably, for  in  one  month  he  was  able  to  repeat 
the  first  part  of  the  catechism,  and  yet  was  as 
deeply^perplexed  as  ever  in  the  spelling-lessons. 

To  Honor,  in  their  daily  walks,  Coralie  and 


32  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

Rosalie  talked  of  the  future,  and  of  Coralie's 
castles  in  the  air, — which  castles  were  hospitals 
and  homes  for  orphan  children.  But  she  had 
one  drawback.  It  was  her  intention  to  save 
her  pocket-money  towards  this  great  object, 
but  she  found  it  a  difficult  task,  for  every  beg- 
gar she  passed,  who  asked  her  for  a  penny, 
Coralie  had  not  the  heart  to  refuse ;  and  Rosa- 
lie, at  these  times,  always  forgot  about  their 
scheme.  The  consequence  was,  their  funds 
never  increased  ;  but  this  circumstance  did  not 
abate  their  zeal  in  the  scheme. 

The  little  street-beggars  and  cross-walk 
sweepers  soon  began  to  know  the  children, 
who  walked  the  same  road  each  day,  followed 
by  the  old  woman. 

"  Here  comes  the  little  nuns,  Tag,"  said,  on 
one  of  these  occasions,  a  muddy,  ragged  girl, 
lifting  up  a  stick  with  a  knobby  substance 
upon  the  end,  supposed  to  be  a  broom ;  "  run 
ahead  and  sweep  by  the  gutter." 

Tag,  who  was  just  then  engaged  in  rendering 
her  features  unprepossessing — in  plain  words, 


THE   LITTLE   8ISTEKS   OF   CHARTIY.  33 

making  a  face  at  a  stout  old  gentleman  who 
had  shaken  his  cane  at  her — immediately  drew 
her  face  into  a  sorrowful  expression,  walked  to 
the  place  her  companion  indicated,  and  began 
her  work. 

"  There  is  the  poor,  muddy  little  girl  again, 
Cora.  I  have  my  last  penny.  How  glad  I 
am  that  I  have  one  left !" 

"  Ah !  my  pets,  don't  be  after  minding  them 
things — 'tis  no  use  at  all.  Haven't  they  stood 
there  every  day  this  three  weeks,  just  taking 
the  money  out  of  your  pockets  ? — and  it's  my 
belief  they're  no  good." 

"  But,  aunty,  they  are  very  poor.  They 
have  no  hats  on,  and  their  feet  are  bare ;  and 
see  how  sick  she  looks.  I  know  she  must  be 
sick."  And  Coralie  urged  the  old  woman  on, 
with  her  persuasive  tones. 

"  Please,  little  ladies,  if  you'll  give  me  an- 
other, I'll  sing  for  you,"  said  the  girl,  on  receiv- 
ing the  money. 

u  Can  you  sing  a  hymn  ?"  said  Kosalie. 

"  Well,  no,  I  don't  know  that  tune ;  but  I 


COKALIE   AND   BO8ALIE, 

can  do  '  Pop  goes  the  weasel.'  Please,  little 
ladies,  only  one  penny  more.  My  mother  is 
sick,  and  my  father  broke  his  leg  yesterday, 
and  we  haven't  got  any  thing  in  the  house 
to  eat," 

"  We  have  no  more  money,"  said  Rosalie, 
looking  distressed  ;  "  and  I  do  wish  you  could 
learn  something  better — " 

"  Out  of  the  way  there,  and  stop  telling 
stories !"  cried  a  policeman  coming  up.  "  If 
you  have  had  one  cent,  you  have  had  two 
dozen  this  very  afternoon,  for  I  have  seen 
them  with  my  own  eyes.  Out  of  the  way !  or 
I  will  lock  you  up  somewhere." 

"The  young  street-sweeper  ran  off  pretty 
nimbly  at  this  threat,  and  Rosalie  and  Coralie 
wended  their  way  homeward  with  saddened 
countenances. 

"  Ah  !  my  pets,  ye  mustn't  be  minding  the 
likes  of  them  with  their  stories ;  it  is  no  use  to 
notice  them." 

"  They  must  be  very  poor,  though,  aunty," 
said  Rosalie. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  35 

"  But  it  is  not  much  they  need.  'Tis  my 
belief  you'll  be  doing  no  good ;  'tis  only  throw- 
ing away  money." 

"  But  if  they  are  poor,  aunty  ?  The  minister 
reads  in  church  every  Sunday,  that  if  we  never 
turn  our  faces  away  from  the  poor,  God  will 
never  turn  His  face  away  from  ns." 

"  So  he  does,  Miss  Cora  dear.  You're  right, 
but  I  suppose  the  proper  judgment  will  come 
to  you,  one  day,  about  such  things.  I  believe 
it  is  the  Lord  that  puts  the  good  thoughts  in 
your  hearts,  my  pets,  and  I'll  no  say  against  it." 

"  If  she  would  not  tell  stories.  I  wonder  if 
any  one  has  told  her  it  is  wrong.  Oh  !  how  I 
wish  some  one  would  talk  to  her,  Cora !"  said 
Rosalie. 

Coralie  could  but  echo  the  wish,  and  console 
herself  and  her  sister  with  thoughts  of  what 
they  would  do  if  they  were  women,  instead  of 
children. 

So  the  winter  glided  away,  and  spring  came; 
the  little  girls  living  a  life  apart  from  their 
relatives,  in  the  quiet  house. 


36  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 


CHAPTEE    III. 

"RosE,"  said  Coralie  one  afternoon,  "will 
you  teach  Pat  his  lessons  to-day  ?  I  feel  tired, 
and  do  not  care  about  it."  She  leaned  back 
in  her  chair,  letting  her  book  fall  in  her  lap. 

It  was  so  very  unusual  for  Coralie  to  show 
any  signs  of  fatigue,  that  Eosalie  made  large 
eyes  at  this  request.  Coralie  smiled,  and  said 
"  she  believed  she  was  only  lazy,  and  wanted 
to  sit  quiet  awhile." 

Rosalie  willingly  agreed,  and  had  just 
pushed  the  table  to  the  window,  and  seated 
herself  thereat,  when  Pat  tapped  at  the  door. 
He  had  his  books  and  slate. 

"Rose  will  be  teacher  ta-day,  Pat,  and  I 
will  sit  here  by  the  fire  and  listen,"  said 
Coralie. 

Rosalie  took  the  book. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  37 

"  Now,  Pat,"  she  said,  as  lie  sat  down  oppo- 
site her,  "  we  will  begin  with  the  spelling- 
lesson." 

"  If  we  do,  then,  miss,  we'll  niver  get  fur- 
ther to-day,  for  it's  just  as  much  as  I  can  do 
to  study  them  at  all,  they  twist  my  mouth  so 
intirely.  The  verses  and  the  big  printed  read- 
ing I  know  better." 

Truth  to  tell,  Pat  bungled  so  much  worse 
than  usual,  and  so  twisted  his  tongue  to  get 
the  words  out  properly,  that  it  brought  a  smile 
to  Rosalie's  face ;  and  Coralie  ventured  the 
remark  that  she  was  afraid  he  had  not  studied 
his  lesson  as  well  as  he  might  have  done. 

"  Indeed,  then,  miss  dear,  I  pored  over  it 
two  hours  or  more  last  night  after  supper,  and 
had  drames  about  it,  too ;  for  as  true  as  you 
sit  there,  miss,  I  thought  I  was  shut  up  in  a 
box,  higher  than  the  house,  only  not  so  wide, 
but  all  narrow  like,  just  big  enough  for  me  to 
stand  in  without  touching  the  sides — as  slim 
as  myself  that  is,  miss.  Well,  I  thought  it  was 
all  lined  with  spelling-lessons  from  one  end  to 


38  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIK, 

the  other,  and  that  I  had  to  crawl  up  and 
down,  and  larn  every  column  before  breakfast. 
But  wasn't  I  glad  to  find  it  was  only  a  drame, 
when  I  woke  up.  Try  the  verses  and  the  cate- 
chism, plase,  Miss  Rosie.  I  get  on  better  with 
them." 

In  these  Pat  acquitted  himself  so  well,  that 
Rosalie  asked  her  sister  if  she  might  give  him 
a  new  task.  Coralie  did  not  answer  this  ques- 
tion, though  twice  repeated,  which  caused  Pat 
to  look  up  quickly,  fearing  he  was  in  disgrace. 
She  was  sitting  quite  still,  gazing  into  the  fire, 
her  head  leaning  on  her  hands. 

"  Cora,  is  any  thing  the  matter  ?" 

Rosalie  walked  over  to  her,  and  Coralie,  now 
thoroughly  aroused  by  her  sister's  alarmed 
tone  of  voice,  turned  around.  Rosalie  saw 
that  her  eyes  were  filled  with  tears. 

"  Are  you  sick,  Cora  dear  ?  What  is  the 
matter?  Let  me  call  aunty.  Tell  me  what 
it  is." 

"  No,  no !  don't  call  any  one,  Rosie.  I  only 
felt  a  little  badly — perhaps  because  I  do  not 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  39 

feel  very  strong  to-night ;  and  I  got  thinking, 
and  that  made  me  act  silly." 

Coralie  attempted  a  smile,  but  the  tears 
were  now  falling  rapidly  down  her  cheeks,  and 
the  smile  got  lost  in  them.  This  was  such  un- 
usual behavior  for  Coralie,  that  Rose,  who  was 
getting  more  and  more  alarmed,  and  half 
ready  to  cry,  too,  came  and  put  her  arm  over 
the  back  of  her  sister's  chair,  looking  sad 
enough. 

"  I  have  felt  strangely  for  some  time,"  con- 
tinued Coralie.  "  I  have  felt  it  so  hard  to  do 
any  thing — such  an  exertion  to  move ;  not  ex- 
actly weak,  but  so  tired  when  I  walk ;  and  I 
have  been  thinking  I  would  not  walk  out  this 
afternoon,  for  I  dread  the  walking  up-stains 
afterwards.  I  know  I  am  not  sick.  It  is  only 
so  hard  for  me  to  move.  My  feet  seem  to 
have  weights  to  them, — it  sometimes  takes  me 
so  long  to  stir  them." 

"  Maybe,  miss  dear,  'tis  a  fever  you're  get- 
ting," said  Pat,  looking  dolefully  at  them. 
"  It  is  apt  to  make  one  wake  and  qnare  like." 


40  COKALIE   AND   EOSALIE, 

"  But  I  do  not  feel  hot,  and  my  head  does 
not  ache.  That  is  the  way  to  have  a  fever. 
No,  Pat,  'tis  not  a  fever;  it  is  something  in  my 
legs  and  feet :  and  as  I  sat  here  I  could  not 
help  thinking — thinking  that  perhaps  it  might 
go  on  so,  and  that  I  should  not  be  able,  after 
awhile,  to  walk  at  all.  Do  not  persons  get  so 
sometimes  ?" 

"  O  Cora  dear,  it  is  not  so ;  that  is  so  dread- 
ful !  Little  girls  never  get  so ;  it  is  only  old 
people— isn't  it,  Pat?" 

Pat  looked  doubtful,  shook  his  head,  and 
said  he  never  knew  much  about  such  things, 
but  that  he  guessed  Miss  Coralie  must  be  very 
tired.  Anyways  they  would  tell  Honor  when 
she  came  in,  and  get  her  opinion. 

"When  Honor  came  up,  she  listened  to  the 
children's  statement  of  the  case ;  then,  after 
asking  Coralie  the  same  questions  Rosalie  had 
already  asked,  and  then  ever  so  many  more 
that  brought  not  much  more  light  on  the  sub- 
ject, she  said  cheerfully  that  she  thought  it 
would  all  be  right  in  time,  aiid  Coralie  must 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  41 

keep  up  a  good  heart.  Nevertheless  Honor 
had  strong  misgivings  in  her  own  mind,  and 
leaving  the  children  shortly  after,  went  down 
to  the  parlor  to  acquaint  Mr.  Somerville  with 
the  facts,  and  to  ask  for  advice  about  seeing  a 
physician.  She  did  not  speak  of  her  own  sus- 
picions, merely  telling  the  symptoms  Coralie 
had  told  her. 

It  roused  even  Mrs.  Somerville  to  something 
like  interest ;  and  Mr.  Somerville,  with  his 
usual  impetuosity,  rushed  from  the  room  to 
the  nursery,  captured  both  children,  and 
brought  them  to  the  parlor — Pat  following 
close  at  his  heels.  Confronting  his  nieces  with 
the  nurse,  he  requested  her  to  tell  it  all  over 
again,  much  to  Honor's  confusion,  who  knew 
the  children  were  surprised  at  the  haste  with 
which  she  had  carried  the  news  to  their 
uncle. 

Before  listening  to  it.  however,  he  dispatched 
Pat  for  the  doctor;  and  after  giving  Honor 
another  hearing,  employed  himself  walking 
the  length  of  the  room,  wondering  what  kept 


42  COBALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

the  boy  so,  and  whether  there  ever  was  a 
doctor  handy  when  he  was  wanted. 

"  Now  really,  Charles,  you  are  unreasona- 
ble," said  Mrs.  Somerville,  as  her  husband 
came  down  the  room  the  sixth  or  seventh 
time.  "  You  have  not  allowed  the  boy  time 
to  get  there,  and  you  are  frightening  the  poor 
children." 

"No,  my  dear,  I  hope  not.  I  only  want 
to  have  a  word  or  two  with  the  doctor.  'It 
may  be  nothing,  after  all,  but  some  of  your  old 
woman  notions,  Honor.  Don't  get  frightened, 
my  dears.  I  think  Doctor  Conover  can  tell 
us  what  is  to  be  done.  You  do  not  feel  sick, 
little  wren  ?" 

"  No,  sir — oh,  no !  only  tired." 

"Try  if  you  can  stand  up  by  me."  Mr. 
Somerville  stopped  in  his  walk,  and  lifted  her 
from  the  chair.  "  You  can  stand  as  well  as 
anybody,  child.  You're  only  nervous.  Walk 
over  to  your  aunt." 

Coralie's  face  grew  crimson,  and  she  rested 
her  hand  heavily  on  the  back  of  the  chair. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OP   CHARITY.  43 

"Why,  what  is  the  matter?  Don't  be 
frightened.  Rosie,  take  hold  of  your  sister's 
hand." 

"  No,  Rose.  I  can  do  it  now,  uncle."  And 
Coralie  walked  slowly  across  the  room,  to  her 
aunt,  seemingly  with  ease ;  but  Mr.  Somerville 
quickly  detected  in  her  face  the  exertion  it 
had  been  to  her,  and  he  glanced  uneasily  at 
his  wife. 

"  How  did  it  make  you  feel,  little  one  ?" 

"  Tired  at  first,  and  as  if  I  should  fall ;  but 
it  went  over  after  I  got  fairly  walking.  It 
always  does." 

"  Umph  !  Sit  down  there,  my  dear.  You 
want  rest,  and  a  little  medicine  to  set  you  all 
right  again.  Now,  here  is  Rosie — I  would 
have  expected  her  to  get  sick.  With  that  pale 
face  of  hers,  it  would  not  have  been  surpris- 
ing. Are  you  sure  you  are  quite  steady  on 
your  legs,  wren  ?" 

Mr.  Somerville,  as  if  to  test  their  strength, 
jocosely  lifted  Rosalie  up  and  down  from  the 
floor,  and  then  made  her  walk  through  the 


44  CORAT.TF.   AND   KOSALIE, 

room.  It  was  not  until  she  had  walked  twice 
from  one  parlor  to  the  other,  at  a  running  pace, 
that  he  seemed  satisfied.  He  then,  in  a  re- 
lieved tone  of  voice,  pronounced  her  "all  right." 

"  Now,  my  dear,"  said  he,  addressing  Cora- 
lie,  "  it  is  quite  clear  to  my  mind  that  you 
need  a  good  course  of  living — plenty  of  beef 
and  milk,  that  will  fatten  you  a  little.  You 
are  too  thin.  That  is  all  that  is  required. 
Mrs.  Some^rville,  you  may  depend  upon  it  that 
is  all." 

"  And  what  about  the  medicine  you  were 
speaking  of,  Charles?" 

"  Pshaw !  nonsense,  my  love.  Did  I  say 
medicine?  Well,  it  would  do,  only  we  will 
try  the  other  plan  first.  I  wish  the  doctor 
would  come,  though  he  does  not  know  any 
better  than  I  what  to  do — if  he  knows  half  as 
well.  You  see,  my  love,  I  am  right.  I  know 
more  about  physic  than  a  whole  college  of  sur- 
geons. I  declare !  if  a  half  hour  has  not  passed 
since  I  sent  the  boy  !  It  is  enough  to  wear  a 
person  out  to  be  kept  waiting  so." 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAEITY.  45 

Mr.  Somerville  was  getting  quite  excited, 
and  Mrs.  Somerville  accordingly  advised  his 
looking  out  at  the  door,  as  she  thought  in  all 
probability  the  doctor  was  coming.  On  open- 
ing the  front  door  for  that  purpose,  Mr.  Somer- 
ville's  heated  temper  rapidly  cooled,  for  he  saw 
Pat  running  along  on  the  opposite  side-walk, 
and  Doctor  Conover  following  him  at  a  rapid 
rate.  Mr,  Somerville  in  his  eagerness  ran  out, 
and  the  two  old  gentlemen,  smiling  and  bowing, 
met  in  the  middle  of  the  street,  much  to  the 
amusement  of  the  passers  by. 

"Dear  me!  Mr.  Somerville,  is  any  thing 
serious  the  matter  ?  This  boy  hurried  me  so, 
that  I  feared  some  one  was  alarmingly  ill.  I 
never  saw  such  a  spry  object  as  he  is  in  all  my 
life.  But,  my  dear  friend,  you  will  most  cer- 
tainly take  cold,  if  you  stand  with  uncovered 
head  in  the  street. 

"Sure  enough!  I  have  forgotten  my  hat. 
The  fact  is,  doctor,  I  was  so  glad  to  see  you, 
that  I  forgot  all  about  my  head.  I  want  your 
advice.  But  come  into  the  house,  where  we 


46  CORALIE  AND  KOSA1JE, 

can  talk.     Here  is  a  three-cent  piece  for  you, 
Pat." 

"  No,  sir,  but  I  thank  you  all  the  same.  I 
would  go  twice  as  far,  sir,  to  oblige  my  young 
ladies,  and  think  it  no  work  at  all,  sir,  but  a 


"Good  boy!  good  boy!  If  you  keep  on 
with  such  principles,  you  will  make  a  fine 
man,"  and  the  doctor  patted  him  on  the  head, 
and  smiled  kindly  at  him. 

Doctor  Conover  listened  attentively  to  Mr. 
Somerville's  account  of  his  niece ;  then  asked 
the  little  girl  a  number  of  questions,  made  her 
walk,  asked  Honor  about  their  mode  of  living, 
then  looked  at  them  both  attentively  ;  said  he 
would  see  what  could  be  done,  pinched  their 
cheeks,  patted  their  heads,  and  told  Mr. 
Somerville  that  would  do ;  and  led  him  out 
into  the  dining-room,  where  both  gentlemen 
stayed  so  long,  that  Honor,  getting  tired  of 
waiting,  went  away  up  to  the  nursery,  and  Pat 
returned  to  his  duties  in  the  kitchen. 

Kosalie  and  Coralie  looked  out  of  the  win- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHAKITY.  47 

dow  as  long  as  it  was  light  enough  to  see,  and 
then  in  fear  of  disturbing  their  aunt,  who  ap- 
peared to  be  asleep,  sat  still  in  the  darkness 
until  Sarah  came  in  to  close  the  blinds  and 
light  the  gas.  Mrs.  Somerville  roused  herself, 
then,  sufficiently  to  tell  them  they  might  amuse 
themselves  looking  at  the  pictures  in  some  of 
the  books  on  the  centre-table,  and  sank  back 
on  her  sofa. 

The  children  became  so  interested  in  the 
book  that  they  forgot  about  the  doctor's  visit, 
and  did  not  hear  the  door  close  when  he  left, 
nor  any  sound  but  the  tea-bell,  arid  immediate- 
ly afterwards  their  uncle's  voice,  telling  them 
they  were  to  drink  tea  with  him  to-night,  as 
Ernest  was  away,  and  he  felt  lonesome. 

It  was  not  surprising  that  Mr.  Somerville 
should  carry  Coralie  into  the  dining-room,  for, 
as  we  have  seen  already,  it  was  one  of  his 
ways  of  amusing  his  nieces.  But  it  was  sur- 
prising that  he  carried;  only  Coralie,  letting 
Eosalie  walk  by  them,  and  get  into  her  chair 
without  his  assistance,  and  yet  placing  Coralie 


48  COBALEE   AND   ROSALIE, 

in  hers  with  the  greatest  care;  then  sending 
her  a  taste  of  every  thing  on  the  table,  within 
his  reach — insisting  that  she  must  eat  heartily ; 
and  even  after  tea,  saying  that  he  would  make 
a  baby  of  her,  and  so  carried  her  all  the  way 
to  the  nursery.  It  looked  bright  and  warm  in 
the  room,  and  Mr.  Sornerville  stopped  by  the 
fire  a  moment  to  say  something  hopeful  to 
Coralie  about  the  future,  and  giving  Honor 
directions  to  be  careful  of  her. 

"  Please,  Uncle  Charles,"  said  Coralie,  as  he 
walked  to  the  door,  "  stay  awhile,  I  want  to 
speak  to  you." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,  my  dear."  Mr. 
Somerville  came  back  at  once,  and  sat  down, 
telling  Honor,  as  he  did  so,  that  she  could  go 
to  her  tea. 

"  I  wanted  to  ask  you,  Uncle  Charles,  about 
that — that  the  doctor  said." 

"Ah!  yes.  He  said  it  was  weakness,  de- 
bility— some  such  sort  of  thing ;  said  we  must 
take  good  care  of  you,  and  take  you  into  the 
country,  and  let  you  have  fresh  air,  drink 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS    OF   CHAEITT.  49 

milk,  live  out  of  doors,  and  have  a  good  time 
generally,  and  be  as  lazy  as  you  please.  That 
will  be  good  fun,  won't  it,  Rosie,  my  dear? 
You'll  be  down  on  the  beach  picking  shells,  or 
rambling  through  the  woods,  and  getting  as 
rosy  and  brown  as  country  lasses." 

Rosalie  looked  delighted  at  this  pleasant 
picture,  and  Coralie  murmured  assent  in  an 
absent  manner,  and  resting  her  hand  on  her 
uncle's  chair,  said — 

"  Uncle  Charles,  please  to  tell  what  else  the 
doctor  said  about  me.  Did  he  say  I  would  get 
worse  ?" 

"Well!  ah!"  Mr.  Somerville  gazed  all 
around  the  room  before  he  could  summon 
courage  to  look  in  his  niece's  face. 

"Please  tell  me,  uncle.  I  would  rather 
know." 

Mr.  Somerville  took  a  long  breath.  "  He 
said  a  good  deal,  my  dear,  used  a  great  many 
big  words  you  wouldn't  understand  if  I  did 
tell  you.  And  though  he  may  be  a  smart  man, 
he  may  not  know  every  thing.  He  thinks  it 


50  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

has  been  coming  on  for  months,  and  that  we 
must  take  you  away  to  the  sea-side  for  change 
of  air." 

"  But  did  he  think  I  would  get  better  ?" 

"  How  perverse  it  is  !  "What  an  obstinate 
little  wren  she  is,  to-night,  Rosie !  We  will 
get  her  into  the  country.  Doctor  Conover 
thinks  that  will  be  good  for  her." 

Mr.  Somerville  adhered  so  to  this  one  idea 
of  going  to  the  country,  and  brought  the  con- 
versation back  to  it  so  every  time,  that  Coralie 
noticed  it. 

"  Uncle  Charles,  did  not  the  doctor  say  I 
would  not  be  able  to  walk." 

"  My  poor  child !  he  thought  there  was 
danger  of  it."  Mr.  Somerville  took  her  hand 
in  his.  "  Let  us  hope  for  the  best.  Country 
air  and  the  sea-shore  may  do  wonders  for  my 
little  wren ;  and  with  Pat  to  draw  you  about, 
and  Rosy  to  play  with,  we'll  soon  see  a  change 
for  the  better.  Look  at  the  bright  side,  my 
dear — and  really,  really,  it  might  be  worse." 
Mr.  Somerville  casting  about  in  his  own  mind 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS    OF   CHAEITY.  51 

for  something  consoling,  could  think  of  nothing 
else;  and  it  happened  very  well,  for  Coralie 
said  yes  very  heartily,  and  kept  repeating  it 
over  to  herself,  and  tried  hard  to  think  so,  as 
she  said  it,  notwithstanding  Rosalie's  audible 


Mr.  Somerville  told  his  wife,  when  he  went 
down  stairs,  that  Coralie  was  a  wonderful 
child — as  brave  and  womanly  as  a  woman  of 
twenty-five,  instead  of  a  girl  of  eleven,  and 
that  he  would  have  preferred  facing  a  north- 
east storm,  to  saying  what  he  had  been  obliged 
to  say  to  her. 

Coralie  sat  looking  into  the  fire  a  long,  long 
time  after  Eosalie  had  flung  herself  down  by 
her  sister,  and  had  ceased  crying  when  Honor 
came  in.  The  old  nurse  moved  around  put- 
ting things  in  place,  not  wishing  to  disturb  the 
little  people.  After  she  had  arranged  all  to 
her  satisfaction,  she  wheeled  her  chair  to  the 
fire,  and  sat  down.  "  It  is  nigh  on  to  bedtime, 
my  pet,"  said  she. 

"In  a   little  while,  aunty  dear.     Rosie  is 


52  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

nearly  asleep  now."  Rosalie  raised  her  head 
to  show  her  sister  that  she  was  awake. 

"  rhave  been  thinking,"  continued  Coralie, 
"of  what  the  doctor  told  Uncle  Charles. 
Aunty,  he  thinks  I  will  not  be  able  to  walk  at 
all  after  awhile." 

Honor's  reply  was  so  indistinct  that  it 
sounded  like  a  moan. 

"But  it  might  have  been  worse.  Uncle 
Charles  said  so." 

"  Ah !  yes,  my  pet,"  sighed  Honor. 

"  It  seems  very  bad,  indeed,  aunty.  I  can- 
not see  how  it  could  be  worse,"  said  Rosalie. 

"  Rose-bud  dear,  it  might  be  worse.  Sup- 
posing now  it  was  blindness." 

"  O  aunty !"  Rosalie  shuddered  at  the 
mere  thought. 

"  Or  it  had  been  my  arms,  Rosie,  instead  of 
my  feet.  I  never  could  do  a  thing,  but  sit 
here  and  be  helpless — never  could  put  my 
arms  round  you,  this  way,"  and  Coralie 
clasped  her  tight.  "  I  suppose  it  is  pleasanter 
after  one  gets  used  to  it.  I  do  not  think  I  feel 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARTIY.  53 

it  so  much — for  I  am  thinking  all  the  time 
that  it  cannot  be  I,  but  some  other  little  girl ; 
and  as  I  looked  at  the  fire,  after  Uncle  Charles 
went  away,  I  found  myself  pitying  the  little 
girl  a  great  deal." 

"  Cora,  if  it  had  only  been  I !  I  do  not 
know  how  to  do  without  you — I  am  so  afraid. 
It  would  not  seem  so  bad  if  it  were  I." 

"  As  if  it  would  not  be  just  as  much  to  me, 
Rose-bud,"  said  Coralie,  with  a  touch  of  her 
usual  bright  way  in  her  voice,  that  gladdened 
Rosalie  very  much. 

"  My  dears,  it's  the  Lord's  will,  and  we  must 
no  say  against  it." 

"  Aunty  dear,  help  me  to  think  that.  Tell 
me,  every  time  I  get  cross  about  it.  Papa 
would  tell  me  so.  It  would  not  come  if  it  was 
not  right,  I  suppose." 

"  "We  have  had  so  many  sorrows,  Cora ! 
First  mamma,  then  papa  taken  away  from  us ; 
and  now — " 

Coralie's  voice  trembled,  but  she  said, 
stoutly — 


64  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

"  Papa  told  us  to  love  Uncle  Charles  ;  and 
we  have  aunty,  Rose." 

"O  aunty  dear!  I  did  not  forget  you," 
cried  tender-hearted  Rosalie,  fearing  Honor's 
feelings  would  be  wounded.  "  I  am  a  very 
bad  girl  to  talk  so." 

Honor,  for  answer,  took  her  in  her  arms, 
kissed  her  once  or  twice,  rubbed  her  own  eyes 
with  the  corner  of  her  apron,  declared  they 
were  both  her  darlings,  and  the  comfort  of  her 
life — her  little  jewels — and  hoped  God  would 
bless  and  keep  them  that  night  and  ever ;  and 
then  reminded  them  that  it  was  indeed  bed- 
tune — that  if  they  wanted  to  get  strong  and 
well,  they  must  go  to  bed  early. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  55 


CHAPTER    IY. 

THERE  is  a  charming  little  cottage,  covered 
with  vines  and  evergreens,  so  shut  in  from  the 
road  by  thick-shrubberied  fences,  that,  passing 
by,  one  must  needs  look  quite  closely  to  see  it 
at  all.  This  cottage  belongs  to  Mr.  Morton, 
the  clergyman  ;  and  oh  the  hill,  just  one  side 
of  the  cottage,  a  little  further  back  from  the  road, 
is  the  church  where  Mr.  Morton  officiates,  and 
preaches  every  Sunday  to  the  people  of  Wynn. 

Wyim  is  a  scattered-looking  village,  half  a 
mile  north  of  the  parsonage.  It  is  not  a  place 
of  much  note,  and  only  boasts  of  its  fine 
beach  and  sea-breezes.  Its  inhabitants  are 
chiefly  fishermen  and  pilots.  But  it  is  not  the 
village  we  have  to  do  with,  this  afternoon,  but 
the  minister's  cottage. 

Although,  in  its  beautiful  shade  of  fresh 


56  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

green,  it  yesterday  seemed  a  pleasant  spot,  this 
bright  June  afternoon  it  seems  doubly  so,  in 
its  newer  beauty  of  blossoming  roses — these 
roses  that  only  peeped  forth  this  morning, 
too;  and,  I  suppose,  finding  that  summer  had 
really  come,  they  threw  off  their  pretty  spring 
wrappers  of  green,  and  as  the  sun  smiles  such 
a  welcome  to  them,  have  taken,  to  smiling 
themselves  in  beauty,  in  every  direction.  In 
truth,  in  some  places  they  have — at  this  late 
hour  in  the  day,  too — ceased  smiling,  and  are 
fairly  laughing  outright,  turning  pale  cheeks 
and  blushing  cheeks  to  the  sun,  in  a  very 
saucy  manner  indeed. 

Roses  run  up  the  sides  of  the  house  and 
over  the  top  of  the  house.  Roses  mingle  with 
the  vines  that  shade  the  queer  lozenge-shaped 
window  in  the  roof.  In  all  places  where  roses 
can  put  their  heads,  there  they  are,  and,  unit- 
ing their  perfumes  with  the  odors  from  honey- 
suckle and  sweet-brier,  scent  the  air  away  down 
to  the  shore. 

There  is  a  lawn   from  the  cottage  to  the 


THE   LITTLE    SISTEKS    OF   CHARITY.  57 

road,  with  a  thick  hedge  along  the  fence— so 
thick  that  Arthur  Morton,  a  young  gentleman 
of  four  years,  has  not  been  able  to  squeeze 
himself  through  it  in  a  long  time,  though  he 
has  tried  to  do  so  daily,  to  the  great  detriment 
of  his  clean  frocks  and  aprc*s. 

You  have  only  to  cross  the  road  and  walk 
down  a  hill,  and  there  the  beach  runs  along 
for  miles ;  and  you  can  see  vessels  sail  by,  and 
watch  them  as  far  as  the  eye  can  reach. 
Watching  the  boats  is  one  of  Mr.  Arthur 
Morton's  amusements.  Here,  seated  on  a 
bench,  listening  to  the  waves  washing  up  on 
the  pebbles,  he  looks  out  for  vessels,  and,  with 
his  quick  bright  eye,  can  distinguish  a  schoon- 
er, a  brig,  or  a  clipper,  as  easily  as  his  papa 
can.  It  is  not  with  the  beach,  any  more  than 
the  village,  that  we  have  any  thing  to  do  this 
afternoon,  but  the  cottage — rather,  I  should 
say,  the  inmates  of  the  cottage. 

Mrs.  Morton  is  standing  on  the  piazza,  wait- 
ing to  welcome  her  husband,  who,  having  just 
returned  from  some  parish  calls,  is  giving  the 


58  COEALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

reins  to  his  man  Thomas,  together  with  a 
parting  pat  to  the  old  brown  mare. 

"  Papa  has  come !"  cried  little  Arthur  Mor- 
ton, scampering  from  his  mother's  side  down 
to  the  gate,  where  he  gained  his  usual  seat  on 
such  occasions — his  father's  shoulder. 

"  Mamma,  look  at  me — I  am  taller  than 
papa !"  This  was  Arthur's  great  joke,  and  he 
always  laughed  at  it  himself,  and  expected  his 
mother  to  do  the  same ;  and  if  she  forgot  it, 
why,  Arthur  soon  reminded  her,  and  would 
not  be  satisfied  till  she  had  "  smiled  out  loud," 
as  he  expressed  it. 

"  Now,  young  rogue,"  said  Mr.  Morton, 
coming  up  to  the  piazza,  "  tell  me  whether 
you  have  been  a  good  boy  this  afternoon." 

"  Yes,  sir,  only  I  was  cross  once — oh,  ever 
such  a  little  bit.  Mamma  said  it  was  a  pin's 
head  cross.  I  threw  dirt  on  the  steps,  and 
mamma  told  me  not  to." 

"  So  you  were  a  very  little  cross,  my  boy. 
Well,  you  have  got  over  the  pin's  head  cross 
now,  and  are  entitled  to  a  kiss.  But  seeing  he 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEKS   OF   CHAKITY.  59 

is  such  a  troublesome  fellow,  Mary,  what  shall 
we  do  with  him  ?" 

"I  know,"  said  Arthur;  "leave  me  home 
to  take  care  of  mamma,  and  if  the  wild  bears 
come  I  will  shoot  them." 

"  There  are  no  wild  bears,  Arthur ;  nothing 
to  catch  and  tame  but  a  little  wild  boy." 

"I  said  'if  they  came,'  papa.  They  have 
bears  in  some  countries,  I  know.  I  have 
heard  so,  and  I  would  not  like  them  to  eat  my 
mamma." 

"  Papa,  put  the  little  bear-killer  down,  and 
he  can  go  to  the  kitchen  and  tell  Margery  we 
are  ready  for  tea." 

"Yes,  I  will  go,  mamma,"  said  Arthur, 
proud  to  be  sent  of  an  errand,  even  if  it  was 
only  as  far  as  the  kitchen  ;  and  off  he  went  to 
Margery,  to  deliver  the  message.  Mr.  Morton 
sat  down  by  his  wife  on  a  rustic  sofa  that  stood 
on  the  piazza. 

"  What  a  quiet  afternoon,  Mary,"  said  he, 
"  and  how  lovely  it  looks  here !  You  must 
take  a  walk  outside  the  gate  after  tea,  just  to 


60  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

look  at  the  cottage.  The  roses  are  in  blossom 
all  over  the  top — our  roses  that  we  planted 
the  first  year  we  came  to  "Wynn.  Do  you 
know,  my  love,  we  can  almost  feel  proud  of 
our  cottage,  to-day,  in  its  flower  show  ?  If  we 
cannot  be  proud  of  the  outside,  we  can  be  very 
happy  inside  of  it,  it  is  such  a  quiet  nook.  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  sit  here  with  you,  and  enjoy 
it  the  rest  of  the  day." 

"  Without  even  caring  to  tell  me  where  you 
have  been,  and  what  detained  you  beyond 
your  usual  time  of  returning." 

"  No,  my  love.  It  is  part  of  my  rest  to  talk 
to  you.  As  I  rode  along  I  said  to  myself,  now 
I  will  tell  Mary  so  and  so  when  I  get  home :  it 
will  interest  her  ;  or  Mary  would  like  to  hear 
about  that.  And  now  for  your  own  affairs  first. 
I  went  to  see  the  people.  It  is  a  rough  ride, 
over  as  hilly  a  road  as  there  is  in  this  part  of 
the  country.  I  found  five  children  of  an  age 
to  attend  the  school — two  girls  and  three  boys  ; 
and  I  induced  the  mother  to  let  them  come 
every  Sunday  morning.  One  woman  seemed 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  61 

inclined  to  come  to  church,  but  said  she  did 
not  know  how  she  could  leave  her  family.  I 
urged  them  to  come  down,  but  I  hardly  expect 
them.  I  shall  go  over  again  next  week,  and 
perhaps  we  will  see  them  in  the  church  yet." 

"  Can  the  children  walk  the  two  miles, 
Edward  ?" 

"  They  told  me  there  was  another  walk  to 
the  church,  over  the  fields,  that  shortened  it 
nearly  a  mile.  The  girls  seemed  to  know  it 
about  here.  They  are  healthy-looking  chil- 
dren— and  three  of  them  said  they  could  read. 
After  I  left  there,  I  made  two  or  three  more 
visits;  and,  lastly,  called  at  the  white  house 
on  the  hill — Mr.  Somerville's,  you  know." 

"  Did  you  ?     I  am  glad  of  that." 

"  So  am  I,  now,  though  I  rather  disliked  the 
idea,  as  I  have  not  seen  any  of  them  at  church, 
excepting  an  old  woman  and  a  child.  Mr. 
Somerville  was  very  pleasant,  very  hospitable, 
and  begged  me  to  bring  you  to  call  on  his 
wife.  He  made  Mrs.  Somerville's  excuses  to 

me — said  she  was  lying  down,  and  was  suffer- 
G 


62  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

ing  from  headache.  He  took  me  over  his 
place.  He  has  been  making  improvements 
ever  since  he  purchased  it,  and  it  is  in  fine 
order.  After  walking  through  the  grounds, 
we  extended  our  stroll  to  the  shore ;  and  as 
we  went  along,  Mr.  Somerville  explained  to 
me  the  reason  he  had  chosen  what  he  called 
'  such  an  out-of- the- world  sort  of  place'  to  live 
in.  It  was  for  the  benefit  of  a  child — his 
niece." 

"  The  little  girl  that  was  at  church,  Sunday. 
I  thought  she  looked  very  delicate." 

"  No,  not  for  that  one,  but  her  sister.  Now 
listen,  for  I  am  coming  to  the  most  interesting 
part.  We  were  walking  along,  I  said,  and 
Mr.  Somerville  was  telling  me  about  his  niece, 
and  about  his  physician's  recommending  a 
quiet  country  place  for  her,  when  we  came  up 
with  three  children,  seated  in  the  shade  of  a 
large  rock.  The  centre  of  attraction  seemed 
to  be  a  little  girl,  in  a  sort  of  carriage-chair — 
a  bright-eyed,  pale  child,  looking  not  more 
than  nine  years  old,  but  really  two  years  older, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  63 

as  I  found  out  afterwards.  Her  lap  was  filled 
with  shells,  and  she  was  talking  about  them 
very  earnestly  to  another  little  girl,  the  exact 
counterpart  of  herself — her  twin-sister.  In 
fact,  the  resemblance  between  them  is  so  great, 
that,  but  for  their  difference  in  position,  it 
would  have  been  impossible  for  me  to  distin- 
guish one  from  the  other.  I  saw  afterwards 
that  the  sick  one  looked  less  sad  than  the 
other — the  one  that  was  at  church.  They 
both  look  delicate,  though,  and  I  think  it  a 
very  fortunate  circumstance  that  the  doctor 
prescribed  country  air  for  them.  They  are 
southern  plants,  and  I  fear  our  northern  win- 
ter has  chilled  the  poor  things— they  look  so 
very  fragile.  A  round-faced,  freckled  boy  was 
picking  up  shells  and  handing  them  to  the 
little  girl  in  the  carriage.  He  also  performed 
the  part  of  pony  to  the  little  procession.  I  do 
not  know  when  I  have  been  so  attracted  as  I 
was  by  the  two,  I  may  say,  three  faces ;  for 
certainly  the  boy  was  as  fine  a  specimen  of  a 
quick-witted  Irish  lad  as  I  have  ever  seen.  I 


64.  OORALIE  AND  KOSALIE, 

think  the  little  girls  were  rather  afraid  of  me 
at  first :  they  seem  unused  to  strangers ;  but 
we  got  on  better  after  their  uncle  told  them 
who  I  was.  Your  little  friend  that  was  at 
church — Rosalie,  they  call  her — smiled  as 
though  she  had  seen  me  before,  when  her 
uncle  said  I  was  the  minister.  So  I  told  her 
I  was  glad  to  see  her  in  church  last  Sunday, 
and  was  sorry  her  sister  was  too  sick  to  come. 

" '  Uncle  Charles  says  Coralie  cannot  go 
until  she  gets  stronger,'  she  replied ;  '  but  she 
wants  to  go  very  much.' 

"  Mr.  Somerville  said  she  should  go  as  soon 
as  she  got  better,  and  then  told  me  his  niece 
had  been  unable  to  walk  at  all  for  two  months. 
They  have  been  travelling  about  till  the  house 
here  could  be  fitted  up  for  the  family.  After 
we  left  the  children,  Mr.  Somerville  said  to  me 
that  he  had  very  little  hope  of  Coralie's  recov- 
ery. He  said  she  behaved  very  well,  and  in 
fact  did  not  fret  half  as  much  as  he  wished  her 
to.  He  appeared  much  gratified  with  my  offer 
of  Arthur  for  a  playmate  for  them.  Though 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHABITY.  65 

much  younger,  I  said  he  had  such  a  flow  of 
spirits,  and  was  so  brimful  of  fun,  I  thought  it 
would  do  them  good  ;  and  you  know,  my  dear, 
Arthur  will  like  to  see  them,  because  they  are 
little  people.  So  we  parted  :  I  with  the  prom- 
ise that  if  you  conveniently  could  you  would  call 
to-morrow,  and  take  Arthur  with  you ;  and — " 

"  Come  to  tea,  papa !  Tea  is  ready  !  Come, 
mamma ;  it  will  catch  cold  if  you  don't  come 
right  straight  away,"  cried  Arthur,  running 
out  with  an  extremely  red  face. 

"  What  have  you  been  doing  to  make  your 
face  so  red,  Arthur  ?" 

"  Helping  Margery  make  tea,  mamma. 
Margery  let  me  toast  two  pieces — one  for 
you  and  one  for  papa.  Please  to  come  right 
off,  now,  or  it  will  catch  cold."  Arthur  look- 
ed highly  delighted  to  see  his  father  and  moth- 
er eat  the  toast  he  had  made  for  them,  and 
only  regretted  that  he  had  not  toasted  a  slice 
for  pussy,  who  he  thought  looked  neglected, 
and  would  not  come  in  from  the  kitchen  fire 

when  he  called  him. 

63 


66  OOKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

His  mother  said  she  thought  pussy  felt  more 
lazy  than  neglected,  and  liked  the  warmth  of 
the  fire  better  than  toast.  So,  satisfied  on  this 
point,  Arthur  was  very  glad  to  eat  his  bread 
and  milk.  After  he  had  finished  it,  he  sat 
quite  still,  because  his  father  and  mother  were 
talking,  and  he  knew  if  he  was  noisy  or  rest- 
less he  would  be  sent  away.  But  he  could  not 
help  wishing  his  papa  would  talk  about  some- 
thing that  he  could  understand, — and  at  last 
heard  something  to  interest  him — something 
about  two  little  girls,  and  his  mamma  going 
to  see  them,  and  taking  him  with  her,  if  he 
was  a  good  boy. 

When  they  had  finished  tea,  he  went  into 
the  kitchen,  and  told  Margery,  his  friend  and 
great  crony,  that  he  was  going  away  off  soon, 
with  his  mamma,  to  see  two  good  little  girls, 
if  he  was  a  good  little  boy. 

"  I  do  not  see  how  you  know  they  are  good 
little  girls,"  said  Margery. 

"  Why,  Margery,  my  mamma  says  so.  No, 
she  didn't  say  so,  but  I  know  mamma  would 


THE   LITTLE    SISTERS    OF   CHAKITY.  67 

not  go  to  see  any  little  girls  that  were  not 
good." 

"  Ah,  my  man,  so  much  you  know  about 
it,"  laughed  Margery.  ""Wouldn't  she  go  to 
see  'em  if  they  were  bad,  and  try  to  make  them 
good?" 

"  Yes ;  but  they  would  be  good  little  girls 
then,  after  all,  if  mamma  said  nice  things  to 
them." 

"  Oh  !  you're  a  knowing  little  fellow,  Ar- 
thur, and  it  is  well  you  have  got  a  good  pa 
and  ma  to  teach  you,  and  love  you,  and  a  cross 
old  Margery  that  won't  let  you  ever  come  near 
her  kitchen,  and  litter  it  with  your  toys." 
Margery  stopped  wiping  a  cup,  and  rubbed 
her  hands  over  his  curly  head  as  she  said  this, 
and  added  that  she  thought  somebody's  ma 
was  calling  him,  and  she  rather  guessed  it  was 
a  certain  gentleman's  bedtime,  for  the  sun  had 
gone  to  bed,  and  the  "  sand-man"  was  around. 
Arthur  stoutly  denied  the  sand-man's  presence 
near  him,  and  said  he  did  not  know  whom  he 
would  come  to  see  there,  unless  it  was  Mar- 


68  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

gery's  own  self.  He  would  have  advanced  a 
reason  for  saying  so,  had  not  he  heard  his 
mamma  calling  him  now  quite  distinctly,  and 
he  had  to  go. 

While  Arthur  was  getting  ready  for  bed,  he 
asked  his  mamma  about  the  little  girls  she  was 
going  to  take  him  to  see ;  and  when  he  heard 
that  they  were  orphans,  that  they  had  neither 
father  nor  mother,  he  looked  thoughtful,  and 
asked  if  he  could  not  say  something  in  his 
prayers  for  the  little  girls  that  had  no  dear 
mamma  nor  papa. 

His  mother  said  he  might,  and  when  he  knelt 
before  her  with  clasped  hands,  she  let  him  re- 
peat after  her  a  prayer  for  the  orphan  sisters. 
Mrs.  Morton  then  took  him  in  her  arms,  kissed 
him,  and  said :  "  God  bless  my  little  boy,  and 
keep  him  safe  to-night,  for  Jesus  Christ's  sake." 
She  said  this  aloud  every  night,  always  before 
putting  him  in  his  crib. 

It  made  Arthur  very  still  to  see  his  mamma's 
face  so  solemn  as  she  uttered  these  words,  and 
very  much  in  earnest  in  his  wish  to  be  a  good 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  69 

boy.  After  his  mamma  went  away,  his  papa 
used  to  go  up  and  kiss  him  good-night.  Arthur 
always  wanted  this  kiss.  No  matter  if  he  had 
said  good-night  ever  so  many  times  before 
coming  up,  he  would  want  his  papa  to  give 
him  the  last  kiss  in  bed. 

"  "Well,  if  he's  not  the  'cutest  boy  of  his  age 
I  ever  saw  !"  said  Margery,  coming  up  with  a 
waiter  of  freshly-ironed  clothes,  as  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton came  out  of  Arthur's  room.  "  I  will  just 
set  the  waiter  down,  and  go  in  and  kiss  his 
old  curly  head.  I  declare  to  you,  ma'am,  he's 
as  much  company  as  a  whole  party." 

"  Margery,  I  thought  that  was  you  coming," 
said  Arthur,  lifting  his  head  from  the  pillow. 
"  Mamma  told  me  something  to  say  for  the 
little  girls  when  I  said  my  prayers,  because 
they  had  no  father  or  mother.  Mamma  said 
they  were  something — I  forget  what  that  word 
was." 

"  Orphans,  perhaps,"  said  Margery. 

"  Yes,  that  was  it.  Why,  Margery,  that  is 
what  you  once  said  you  were." 


70  CORALIE   AND   EOSALIE, 

"  Yes." 

"  I  did  not  think.  I  wish  I  had  said  the 
prayer  for  you,  too ;  but  I  will  do  it  now.  I 
will  ask  God  to  take  care  of  you.  What 
makes  you  squeeze  my  head  so,  Margery,  and 
kiss  my  hair,  instead  of  my  face  ?" 

"  Well,  well,  because  you're  such  a  dear." 
Margery  gave  him  another  squeeze,  and  van- 
ished. 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAEITT.  71 


CHAPTER  Y. 

"  WELL,  my  love,  I  suppose  you  will  call  at 
Mr.  Somerville's  to-day,"  Mr.  Morton  re- 
marked at  breakfast  the  next  morning.  "I 
think  that  Arthur  is  quite  ready  to  see  the 
little  girls." 

There  was  no  doubt  in  Arthur's  mind  upon 
the  subject,  for  he  not  only  declared  that  he 
was  ready,  but  was  marching  off  for  Margery 
to  get  him  his  cap,  when  his  mamma  called 
him  back,  and  told  him  she  could  not  make 
the  visit  until  afternoon,  and  that  he  must  not 
forget  his  lessons.  He  looked  blank,  but  see- 
ing that  his  mamma  after  breakfast  went 
around  as  usual,  dusting  and  arranging  the 
room,  and  then  sat  down  to  her  work,  he 
brought  his  book,  and  sat  down  by  her. 


72  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

When  school  was  out,  he  went  into  the 
kitchen  to  feed  pussy  and  have  a  chat  with 
Margery.  Then  he  played  with  his  toy-box 
till  he  got  tired ;  and  at  last  concluded  to  go 
around  by  the  study  window,  and  see  what 
his  papa  was  doing.  The  study  window 
opened  on  the  piazza,  and  Arthur  walked 
around  the  piazza  and  looked  in.  His  father 
was  writing.  Arthur  knew  he  must  not  ex- 
pect his  father  to  talk  to  him  now,  so  he 
seated  himself  on  the  sill  as  softly  as  he 
could. 

He  sat  here  a  little  while,  and  he  became 
drowsy.  Every  time  he  nodded,  he  would 
start,  and  sit  up  very  straight,  determined  not 
to  fall  asleep;  but  he  grew  more  and  more 
sleepy,  and  finally  forgot  to  hold  his  eyes  open, 
and  in  a  second  was  sound  asleep.  The  din- 
ner-bell ringing  made  him  open  his  eyes,  and 
he  found,  instead  of  being  in  the  window, 
where  he  had  fallen  asleep,  he  was  lying  on 
the  sofa  in  the  room,  and  his  mother  and 
father  were  talking  in  subdued  tones. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEBS   OF  CHAKITY.  73 

"  You  may  talk  out  loud,  mamma,  for  it  will 
not  wake  me  up  now,"  said  he.  "  Did  you 
put  me  on  the  sofa,  papa  ?" 

"Yes,  I  found  a  small  boy  asleep  in  my 
window,  and  as  I  thought  the  sofa  would  make 
a  better  bed  for  him,  I  brought  him  in  and 
laid  him  there.  His  mamma  just  came  in  to 
see  what  had  kept  the  noisy  boy  quiet  so  long. 
Now  let  us  go  in  to  dinner,  for  Margery 
seems  inclined  to  ring  until  we  make  our 
appearance." 

The  time  to  go  out  came  at  last,  though 
Arthur  thought  lie  never  knew  an  afternoon 
so  long  in  coming.  Mr.  Morton  was  to  take 
them  in  the  gig,  and  leave  them  at  Mr.  Som- 
erville's,  and  Mr.  Morton  intended  walking 
home.  A  small  bench  was  placed  in  the 
vehicle  for  Arthur  to  sit  upon,  and  his  mother 
holding  him  tight  by  his  belt  for  fear  of  his 
falling  out,  they  rode  away.  Arthur  amused 
himself  by  looking  at  the  water,  and  wishing 
his  papa  would  let  him  drive  the  old  mare, 
and  hoping  the  time  would  soon  come  when 


74:  CORALIE   AND   BOSALIE, 

he  would  be  large  enough  to  do  so.  Mr. 
Morton  left  them  at  the  gate,  with  strict  in- 
junctions to  Arthur  to  be  a  good  boj,  and 
take  care  of  his  mother.  Arthur  strutted  up 
to  the  house,  feeling  very  important  at  having 
such  a  trust  imposed  upon  him. 

Pat  opened  the  door  and  ushered  them  into 
the  parlor,  where  Mrs.  Somerville  was  seated, 
reading.  Arthur  walked  over  to  the  window, 
and  fixed  himself  on  a  chair,  with  his  eyes  on 
the  door,  expecting  to  see  the  little  girls  enter  ; 
but  his  mamma  and  Mrs.  Somerville  talked 
some  minutes,  yet  no  little  girls  came  in.  A 
young  man  sauntered  by  the  window.  Mrs. 
Somerville  called  to  him,  and  introduced  him 
to  Mrs.  Morton  as  her  son :  he  bowed,  and 
sauntered  away  again.  Arthur  raised  himself 
on  his  chair,  and  looked  out  to  see  where  the 
young  man  went.  He  walked  down  the  steps 
and  turned  away  at  the  side  of  the  house, 
where  Arthur  could  not  look ;  so  he  concluded 
to  watch  a  bird  that  was  hopping  about  on  a 
bush.  When  the  bird  flew  away  he  had 


THE   LITTLE  SISTEES   OF   CHARITY.  75 

nothing  new  to  look  at,  so  he  sat  down,  and 
turned  his  eyes  to  the  door  again. 

At  last  his  mamma  said,  "  I  hope  we  can  see 
your  nieces  this  afternoon,  Mrs.  Somerville ; 
nay  little  boy  has  been  looking  forward  with 
great  pleasure  to  this  visit." 

"  Certainly ;  I  cannot  think  what  it  is  that 
detains  them.  Ah  !  there  is  Rosalie,"  she  add- 
ed, as  the  child  entered  the  room.  "Come 
and  speak  to  Mrs.  Morton,  Rose,  and  to  the 
young  gentleman.  AVhere  is  Coralie  ?" 

"  Cora  told  me  not  to  come,  Aunt  Charlotte ; 
she  is  waiting  for  aunty  to  come  up,"  said 
Rosalie,  as  she  walked  up  to  Mrs.  Morton  to 
shake  hands.  But  Mrs.  Morton  drew  her  to 
her  and  kissed  her,  and  called  her  "  my  dear," 
in  a  voice  that  made  Rosalie  forget  to  feel 
bashful;  and  she  stooped  down  and  kissed 
Arthur,  quite  of  her  own  free-will — a  sur- 
prising thing  for  her  to  do ;  then  turned  to 
her  aunt : 

"  Aunty  was  down  stairs,  and  Cora  thought 
she  had  better  wait  for  her." 


76  COBALIE  AND  KOSALIE, 

"  But  did  not  Pat  tell  her  ?" 

"  No,  ma'am ;  aunty  had  said  she  would  be 
up  very  soon,  and  Cora  did  not  like  to  hurry 
her.  Pat  is  waiting  to  pull  the  carriage." 

Mrs.  Somerville  explained  to  Mrs.  Morton, 
that  the  nurse  always  carried  Coralie  up  and 
down  stairs. 

"  I  met  aunty  in  the  hall,  Aunt  Charlotte, 
and  she  said  she  would  bring  Cora  right  down, 
— and  she  is  coming  now."  Rosalie  walked 
over  and  opened  the  door  just  in  time  for  Pat 
to  draw  her  sister  into  the  room. 

It  made  Mrs.  Morton  feel  very  sad  to  look  at 
the  child's  pale  face ;  but  the  dark  eyes  bright- 
ened beautifully  when  she  smiled  in  answer 
to  Mrs.  Morton's  kind  greeting,  and  the  smile 
gave  her  face,  as  Mr.  Morton  had  said,  a  very 
animated  and  cheerful  look.  Coralie  was  de- 
lighted to  see  the  little  boy,  kissed  him,  and 
asked  him  a  number  of  questions.  Arthur 
grew  very  communicative,  told  about  his  toys 
and  amusements,  and  about  the  big  shells  he 
could  find  for  them  down  by  his  father's  house. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEKS   OF   CHARITY.  77 

And  they  had  a  very  sociable  time  in  one  cor- 
ner of  the  room  during  Mrs.  Morton's  stay. 

Arthur  was  unwilling  to  go  when  his  mother 
arose,  but  hearing  Mrs.  Somerville  say  that 
the  little  girls  were  going  to  the  beach,  and 
that  they  could  walk  along  together,  he  was 
much  pleased.  Mrs.  Somerville  urged  Mrs. 
Morton  to  call  again,  said  she  was  sure  it 
would  do  the  children  good  to  see  the  little 
boy,  and  promised  to  call  soon  at  the  parson- 
age. Cousin  Ernest  actually  walked  up  the 
stoop  and  carried  Coralie  down,  while  Pat 
lifted  the  carriage  down ;  and  then  set  her  in, 
and  very  carefully,  too.  But  he  could  not 
resist  giving  Rosalie  a  sly  pinch  as  he  left 
them,  which  made  her  walk  briskly  away? 
fearing  that  he  was  following  her. 

The  carriage  so  took  Arthur's  fancy,  that  he 
insisted  upon  sharing  Pat's  duty  of  "pony," 
much  to  Pat's  annoyance,  who  could  not  bear 
any  interference  on  this  point ;  but  he  yielded 
his  place  when  Coralie  asked  him  to  do  so, 
and  I  am  afraid  was  a  little  gratified  to  find 


78  COKALIE  AND   ROSALIE, 

that  Arthur  was  a  deal  too  small  to  make  it 
move,  though  he  pulled  with  all  his  strength. 
After  trying  several  times  he  concluded  to  fol- 
low Pat's  advice,  to  go  behind  and  push  it 
with  his  hands, — to  be  footman. 

"  How  can  I  be  a  footman  if  I  push  with 
my  hands  ?"  asked  Arthur,  looking  at  Pat  in 
surprise. 

Pat  was  so  taken  aback  at  this  question, 
that  he  could  only  laugh,  and  show  every 
tooth  in  his  head.  "  Well,  be  handman,  then," 
said  he.  So  Arthur,  informing  his  mothei 
that  he  was  "  handman,"  went  to  work.  This 
arrangement  was  quite  satisfactory,  and  they 
proceeded  on  their  way,  Mrs.  Morton  and 
Rosalie  walking  by  them.  They  stopped  at 
the  rock — Coralie's  favorite  resting-place. 
There  was  a  smooth  stone  here  that  made  a 
comfortable  seat,  and  Mrs.  Morton  telling  the 
children  she  would  sit  by  Coralie,  sent  them 
for  a  stroll  on  the  beach. 

There  they  sat  a  long  time :  the  children 
running  about ;  now  and  then  coming  back 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS.  OF   CHARITY.  79 

with  hands  full  of  pretty  shells  and  stones; 
and  running  away  again  to  play.  Arthur 
with  his  rosy  cheeks,  frolicsome  ways,  and 
quaint  speeches,  was  very  charming  to  quiet 
Rosalie,  who  grew  so  interested  in  his  whims 
and  ways,  that  she  ran  about,  and  Coralie 
heard  her  laugh  aloud  once  or  twice,  and 
stopped  talking  to  listen  to  the  unusual  sound. 

Coralie  did  not  know  how  she  got  on  the 
subject,  she  only  knew  she  was  telling  all 
about  their  home  at  the  South ;  of  the  death 
of  her  parents,  and  of  their  new  home  at  their 
uncle's  ;  and  of  her  surprise  and  sorrow,  when 
she  discovered  she  was  unable  to  walk; — to 
which  Mrs.  Morton  listened  and  sympathized 
in  a  way  that  made  it  seem  like  talking  to  an 
old  friend. 

"  And  you  are  quite  contented  now  ?"  she 
asked. 

"I  cannot  say  that,  ma'am,"  said  Coralie; 
"  but  it  is  so  lovely  here,  so  much  better  than 
being  in  the  city,  I  think  I  would  not  mind  it 
for  a  little  while  if  I  knew  I  would  get  well. 


00  CORALIE   AND   KO8ALIE, 

Aunty  is  so  good  to  me.  She  tells  me  nice 
lines  out  of  the  Bible,  when  I  feel  very  mis- 
erable,— I  mean  unhappy,  for  I  do  sometimes. 

1  feel  wicked  and  cross.     I  want  to  go  about, 
and  I  get  so  tired  of  waiting," — the  small  hands 
moved  impatiently  over  one  another, — "  and  I 
hoped   so   to  be   of  some  use;   but  I  cannot 
now." 

"My  child,"— Mrs.  Morton  took  the  two 
restless  hands  lovingly  in  her  own, — "  it  is  a 
great  trial,  I  know,  and  perhaps  it  is  better 
now  not  to  be  thinking  of  what  might  have 
been,  it  makes  it  so  much  harder  to  bear  the 
trial.  It  would  be  a  good  plan  to  go  on  with 
the  duties  that  come  for  each  day,  and 
leave  the  rest.  God  sends  afflictions  for  our 
good." 

"  Aunty  tells  me  that,  when  I  get  very  un- 
happy. I  say  it  over  ever  so  often,  but  it 
does  not  always  help  me — I  cannot  think  of 
it — I  had  such  hopes,  such  wishes  of  doing  so 
much  good  when  I  grew  up." 

"Of  what,  my  love?"    Mrs.  Morton  drew 


THE    LITTLE   SISTERS    OF    CHARITY.  81 

her  on  to  talk  of  it,  thinking  it  might  soothe 
her. 

"  Of  our  plan,  Rosie's  and  mine,  to  do 
something  for  others — for  the  little  orphans 
that  had  no  one  to  care  for  them — and  for  the 
poor  sick  people, — like  that  good  lady  that 
Aunty  tells  us  about,  who  was  so  good  to  the 
wounded  soldiers  in  the  war.  I  wanted  to  be 
a  sister  of  charity,  like  Florence  Nightingale. 
But  now  I  know  it  must  all  go.  Rose  is  so 
afraid,  she  will  be  frightened  without  me.  Is 
it  wrong,  ma'am  ?  Aunty  says  it  is  not." 

"  God  does  put  good  thoughts  in  our  hearts, 
but  he  also  sends  afflictions ;  and  I  think  it  is 
not  right,  my  love,  to  think  that  any  plan  of 
our  own  is  the  only  proper  one.  When  we 
propose  to  do  some  benevolent  action,  and  are 
irritated  or  even  annoyed  that  our  plan  can- 
not be  carried  out,  it  is  sin,  not  our  own  good- 
ness, which  makes  us  so.  Our  best  actions  are 
mixed  with  evil.  If  we  say  that  we  have  no 
sin,  we  deceive  ourselves,  and  the  truth  is  not 
in  us.  I  suppose  the  best  plan  would  be  not 


02  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

to  think  about  the  future,  but  to  be  patient 
nnder  the  present  sorrow." 

"  Ought  we  not  to  help  others,  ma'am  ?" 

"  Yes,  my  dear,  and  if  we  resolve  to  do  the 
duties  that  are  before  us,  I  suppose  we  will 
see  a  way  of  helping  others.  I  think  the 
living  so  in  hopes  of  what  you  will  do  when 
you  are  grown  up,  is  not  right.  It  is  apt  to 
take  your  mind  off  from  real  duties." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  I  will  try  to  remember  it,  and 
keep  from  thinking  it  hard  to  be  so  helpless." 

"  You  are  not  helpless,  my  child.  Think  of 
the  dear  sister  who  loves  you  and  depends 
upon  you.  Then  you  have  so  many  chances 
of  helping  others.  I  know  a  great  many 
things  that  you  can  do ;  and  your  uncle  told 
Mr.  Morton  that  you  had  taught  Pat  ever 
since  he  had  been  with  you." 

"  I  have  not  cared  about  it  lately,"— Cora- 
lie's  voice  was  very  repentant ;  "  Rose  does  it 
for  me  now.  Somehow  I  have  not  really 
cared." 

"  Well,  you  will  begin  it  again,  I  am  sure, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  O3 

when  you  think  over  it  a  little — and  then  you 
have  to  be  cheerful,  and  not  reflect  on  the 
sad  past.  I  know  that  you  can  be  of  great 
assistance  to  me.  I  would  like  to  have  a 
little  sewing-society.  Your  sister  and  yourself 
might  come  down  to  the  cottage  once  a  week 
for  that  purpose.  There  are  a  number  of 
children  in  Wynn  who  are  in  need  of  clothes. 
If  your  uncle  would  permit  you  to  come,  we 
might  make  it  a  very  nice  thing." 

"  Oh,  how  I  would  like  it !"  exclaimed 
Ooralie.  "Do  you  really  think  I  could  do 
any  thing,  Mrs.  Morton  ?" 

"I  do  not  doubt  it  at  all,  and  to  prove  it. we 
will  commence  next  week.  I  know  two  or 
three  other  little  girls  that  I  am  sure  will  give 
us  their  assistance." 

"  It  sounds  very  pleasant  to  hear  you  talk 
about  it.  I  will  try  not  to  think  all  the  bad 
thoughts." 

"  Suppose  I  write  you  a  line  to  say  over 
when  the  bad  thoughts  come  ?" 

Coral ie  thought  that  would  be  very  nice, 


84  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

and  Mrs.  Morton  took  a  slip  of  paper  from  her 
pocket,  and  wrote  on  it  with  a  pencil :  "  Put 
thou  thy  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  be  doing  good." 
"  I  think  that  one  will  suit  you,"  she  said,  put- 
ting it  in  Coralie's  hand. 

Coralie  read  it  over.  There  were  tears  in 
her  eyes  as  she  pointed  to  the  last  part,  and 
she  said,  "  Somehow  you  have  made  me  feel 
as  if  I  was  not,  after  all,  so  helpless.  I  will  try 
to  think  of  it,  ma'am." 

"  I  think  your  papa  would  have  told  you 
that  was  the  right  way." 

"  Yes,  ma'am,  papa  talked  to  iis  very  often, 
and  used  to  tell  us  to  strive  to  be  good  chil- 
dren when  he  was  gone,  never  to  tell  a  lie,  and 
to  be  obedient  to  Uncle  Charles.  He  would 
make  us  kneel  down  by  his  bed,  and  say  the 
prayers  with  him ;  and  he  made  us  promise  to 
say  them  every  morning  and  evening,  and  to 
read  in  the  .Bible  every  day.  Oh  !  papa  was 
so  good.  He  said  that  we  must  never  forget 
that  mamma  and  he  had  prayed  to  God  for 
us,  that  we  might  be  kept  from  temptation, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITT.  85 

and  lie  hoped  if  we  lived  we  would  be  good 
women.  So  I  try  to  think  of  that,  and  take 
care  of  little  Eose."  The  upturned  face  grew 
indistinct,  for  a  moment,  to  Mrs.  Morton's 
eyes.  "  She  is  so  shy,"  continued  Coralie, 
"  that  it  makes  me  feel  badly  to  see  her  go 
about  alone.  She  said  it  was  so  pleasant  down 
at  the  church,  that  it  made  her  remember  our 
home  away  at  the  South,  and  I  thought  I 
would  like  to  get  well  enough  to  go  once 
more." 

"  I  hope  you  can  go,  my  dear, — and  there  is 
the  Sunday-school.  I  would  like  to  have  your 
sister  come,  and  you,  too,  if  your  uncle  will 
permit  you.  I  think  we  can  arrange  it  to  his 
satisfaction.  It  is  not  as  if  you  were  really  ill. 
On  the  Sundays  that  you  feel  well,  Pat  could 
draw  you  down  to  the  cottage  early,  and  Mr. 
Morton  will  carry  you  to  church  and  put  you  in 
your  pew.  If  you  sit  in  the  pew  with  me,  you 
know  you  can  stay  there  during  the  service." 

"  I  will  ask  Uncle  Charles  to  let  me  go. 
Aunt  Charlotte  will  not  care,  for  she  says  we 


86  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

must  go  to  Uncle  Charles  for  what  we  want. 
I  can  ask  him  to  let  me  try  it  once,  and  if  it 
does  me  no  harm,  he  may  let  me  go  often ; 
and  then  it  will  give  Pat  a  chance." 

"  Does  Pat  read  P 

"  Not  very  well,  though  he  tries  very  hard. 
He  learns  much  more  quickly  by  repeating 
after  us.  He  has  learned  the  first  part  of  the 
catechism,  and  a  number  of  hymns,  in  that 
way.  He  says  it  makes  him  dizzy — the  letters, 
seem  so  hard.  Do  you  not  think  it  may  be 
because  he  is  not  used  to  studying  ?" 

Mrs.  Morton  thought  it  very  probable  ;  and 
promised  that  Mr.  Morton  would  take  charge 
of  Pat  on  Sundays,  if  they  could  obtain  Mr. 
Somerville's  permission. 

Coralie  was  surprised  when  Eosalie  came 
up  and  said  aunty  was  coming  for  them. 

"  Aunty  always  comes  down  for  us,"  said 
Coralie  to  Mrs.  Morton ;  "  we  are  apt  to  stay 
too  late  when  left  to  ourselves." 

Honor's  face  broke  into  a  pleasant  smile,  as 
she  came  near ;  and  she  made  a  low  courtesy 


THE   LITTLE    SISTKRS    OF    CHARITY.  87 

to  Mrs.  Morton,  and  said  she  hoped  the  chil- 
dren had  not  been  troublesome. 

"  No,  any  thing  but  that.  I  have  enjoyed 
myself  with  my  little  friend  here,  while  the 
others  have  been  roaming  on  the  beach.  I 
only  hope  I  have  not  tired  her." 

"  Ah !  ma'am,  she's  never  tired, — I  never 
saw  the  like  of  the  spirit  that  child  has  in  her. 
She  beats  all.  We'll  not  detain  the  lady 
longer,  my  pets.  Many  thanks,  ma'am,  for 
your  kindness  in  bringing  the  little  boy.  I 
have  never  seen  such  a  color  in  Miss  Rosie's 
face,  nor  such  a  child-light  in  her  eyes." 

"  Then  you  must  bring  the  young  ladies 
down  to  the  cottage,  to  see  Arthur.  We  have 
the  beach  there,  you  know,  as  well  as  here." 

"  Is  it  that  pretty  house  covered  with  vines?" 
asked  Rosalie. 

"  Yes,  that  is  our  home,"  said  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  Papa  says  it  is  his  castle,  and  that  mamma 
is  the  queen.  He  calls  her  '  Queen  of  Roses.' 
Doesn't  he,  mamma  ?"  cried  Arthur.  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton blushed,  and  smiled  at  Arthur's  question. 


88  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

"  What  does  your  papa  say  you  are  ?"  asked 
Rosalie. 

"  Oh  !  papa  calls  me  all  sorts  of  pet  names ; 
but  Margery  says  I  am  a  running  vine,  because 
I  am  all  over  everywhere.  Will  you  ask  your 
grandmother  to  bring  you  to  see  me  ?"  added 
Arthur,  pointing  to  Honor. 

Rosalie  and  Coralie  were  much  amused  at 
Arthur's  mistake. 

After  parting  with  their  new  friends,  Rosalie 
entertained  her  sister  with  stories  of  their 
frolics  on  the  beach ;  and  appealed  to  Pat  for 
corroboration  of  her  statement,  to  which  he 
replied  that  .Arthur  was  a  knowing  chap. 

Rosalie  really  seemed  to  have  awakened  to 
new  life,  for  even  Coralie  had  never  known 
her,  in  their  home  days,  to  be  so  merry. 

They  talked  over  the  pleasant  visit  with 
aunty,  in  the  evening,  and  were  all  so  well 
entertained,  as  to  be  amazed  to  hear  Honor 
say  that  they  had  sat  up  long  past  their  usual 
bedtime. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY. 


CHAPTEK   VI. 

MR.  SO:MERVILLE  consented  to  Coralie's  try- 
ing Mrs.  Morton's  plan.  He  was  only  too 
glad  to  put  the  children  in  a  way  of  enjoying 
themselves,  and  Rosalie's  brightened  face  made 
him  the  more  willing  to  accede  to  their  wishes. 
He  thought  them  entirely  too  solemn,  and  was 
ready  to  enter  into  any  plan  for  making  them 
happier,  though  he  thought  they  had  strange 
ways  of  enjoying  themselves. 

Sunday  came,  and  with  it  a  heavy  storm, 
that  lasted  through  Monday  and  part  of  Tues- 
day, and  that  kept  the  children  closely  housed 
for  the  three  days.  And  then,  more  disap- 
pointment, another  rainy  Sunday,  so  that 
another  week  must  elapse  before  Coralie's 
wish  could  be  fulfilled.  But  they  made  their 

visit  to  the  parsonage,  and  had  commenced 
9* 


90  COBALIE   AND   EOSALIE, 

their  society.  Coralie  and  Rosalie  could  talk 
to  Mrs.  Morton  of  all  their  little  troubles,  and 
they  always  found  her  an  affectionate  and 
sympathizing  friend ;  and  as  for  Arthur,  why, 
he  loved  them  dearly,  and  had  brought  Mar- 
gery to  acknowledge  that  they  were  very  good 
little  girls. 

A  bright  Sunday  came,  and  the  children, 
under  Honor's  protection,  with  Pat,  of  course, 
to  draw  the  carnage,  went  down  to  the  par- 
sonage. Mrs.  Morton  and  Arthur  were  wait- 
ing for  them,  and  as  they  came  to  the  gate, 
Mrs.  Morton  whispered  something  to  her  lit- 
tle boy,  who  then  walked  up  the  side-path  of 
the  garden,  and  presently  returned  with  his 
father. 

Coralie's  face  flushed  as  Mr.  Morton  took 
her  in  his  arms,  but  he  carried  her  so  gently, 
and  was  so  kind,  that  she  did  not  find  it  at  all 
unpleasant.  There  were  not  more  than  three 
or  four  children  in-  the  church,  to  Coralie's 
great  relief,  for  she  had  rather  dreaded  the 
scholars  seeing  her  carried  in.  Mr.  Morton 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  91 

seated  her  in  the  corner  of  his  own  pew,  and 
then  went  to  speak  to  the  children,  who  were 
coming  in ;  so  Coralie  had  time  to  look  about 
her. 

The  scholars  were  assembling  pretty  rapidly. 
And  by  the  time  that  Mrs.  Morton,  who  had 
not  followed  Coralie  immediately,  came  in 
with  the  three  children,  Mr.  Morton  was  ready 
to  open  the  school.  It  so  happened,  this  Sun- 
day, that  five  more  new  scholars  came — the 
children  whose  parents  Mr.  Morton  had  visit- 
ed the  same  day  that  he  called  at  Mr.  Somer- 
ville's.  The  two  girls  were  placed  in  Mrs. 
Morton's  class,  and  the  boys  Mr.  Morton  took 
into  his  own. 

"When  school  had  commenced,  Coralie,  who 
was  looking  over  the  Collect  for  the  day,  heard 
voices  behind  her.  The  conversation  was  for 
a  time  quite  indistinct ;  gradually  the  voices 
grew  louder,  and  she  heard  some  one  say, 
"  Susan  Downs,  if  you  don't  give  it  to  me,  I'll 
tell  the  teacher." 

"  Who  cares,  Betsey  ?  I  tell  you  I  picked  'em 


92  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

up ;  and  now  I've  got  them,  I'm  going  to  keep 
them." 

"  But  I  shook  'em  down,  for  I  climbed  the 
tree." 

Coralie  could  not  resist  looking  behind  her, 
and  she  saw  two  girls  about  her  own  age  in  a 
very  eager  discussion  over  a  bunch  of  cherries 
that  one  had  taken  from  her  pocket,  and  was 
greedily  devouring.  The  unfortunate*  Betsey, 
who  had  not  a  chance  at  the  fruit,  particularly 
attracted  Coralie's  attention;  she  was  so  un- 
tidy, so  uncombed,  and  so  shabby  in  her  ap- 
pearance, and  had  the  additional  disadvantage 
of  a  scar  on  her  left  cheek,  that  drew  her  eye- 
lid down  in  a  very  unpleasant  manner. 

Her  companion's  countenance  was  much 
more  agreeable.  Her  hair  was  neatly  arranged, 
and  her  face  looked  doubly  clean  by  the  side 
of  Betsey's  unwashed  one.  She  had  just 
detected  Betsey's  intention  of  springing  to 
catch  the  fruit,  and  was  striving  to  hold  it 
beyond  her  reach,  when  she  saw  Coralie  look- 
ing at  her. 


k 
THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  93 

"La!  Susan,"  said  Betsey,  who  had  also 
seen  her;  "she's  looking.  Now,  I  suppose 
you'll  tell  the  teacher." 

"  I  think  Mrs.  Morton  will  not  like  it,  if  you 
do  not  know*  the  lesson  when  she  comes  up 
here,"  said  Coralie. 

"  Will  you  promise  me  not  t*  tell  ?" 

"  Yes,"  replied  Coralie,  "  if  you  will  promise 
me  one  thing." 

They*eyed  her  curiously. 

"To  tell  yourself;  I  mean,  when  you  go 
home,  to  stop  and  tell  the  person  you  stole 
them  from,  that  you  took  them,  and  that  you 
are  sorry." 

"Who  said  they  were  stolen?"  asked  Betsey, 
quickly. 

"I  heard  you  say  so,  yourself.  It  is  not 
right — but  we  must  not  talk  any  more.  It  is 
time  for  catechism.  Mrs.  Morton  is  ready  to 
hear  us." 

Mrs.  Morton  had  been  questioning  some 
pupils,  at  the  other  end  of  the  class,  and  had 
not  heard  any  of  the  foregoing  conversation. 


94  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

She  took  up  the  book  now,  and  called  their 
attention. 

Betsey  Harper  and  Susan  Downs  could  not 
answer  one  question  correctly,  but  Mrs.  Mor- 
ton did  not  appear  surprised  at  this,  and  said 
she  supposed  it  was  difficult  for  them  to  learn 
at  first,  and  marked  off  a  portion,  requesting 
them  to  study  it,  and  repeat  it  to  her  on  the 
following  Sunday.  Then,  to  make  it  easier  for 
them  so  to  do,  she  took  the  book,  and  asked 
them  the  questions,  requiring  them  to  read  the 
answers  aloud  from  their  own  books. 

Rosalie  and  Coralie  had  been  carefully 
taught,  and  were  so  well  behaved,  and  had  so 
perfect  a  lesson,  that  the  old  pupils  were  as- 
tonished, and  the  new  ones,  especially  Betsey, 
could  do  nothing  but  stare  at  them  with  open 
eyes  and  mouths. 

By  the  time  Mrs.  Morton  had  explained  the 
lesson  to  them,  Mr.  Morton  was  ready  for 
prayers,  before  dismissing  the  school.  After 
school,  Mrs.  Morton  and  Eosalie  went  down 
to  the  door  to  find  Arthur.  Coralie  remained 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  95 

in  her  seat,  and  a  moment  after  they  had  left 
she  felt  a  pull  at  her  sleeve,  and  looking  up 
saw  Betsey  standing  in  the  pew  behind  her. 
She  was  startled,  for  the  scholars  had  all  gone 
to  the  seats  they  generally  occupied  during 
service. 

"  I  say,"  said  Betsey,  "  one  of  the  girls  says 
you  can't  walk  a  speck,  and  I  said  it  was  a 
fib." 

"  No,  it  is  not  untrue.  I  have  not  walked 
in  more  than  two  months,"  said  Coralie. 

"  How  did  you  get  here,  then  ?" 

"I  rode  to  the  parsonage  in  a  hand-carriage, 
and  Mr.  Morton  carried  me  in  from  his 
house." 

"  You  don't  mean  that  the  minister  did  that  ? 
My  !  how  queer." 

Coralie  could  not  but  smile  at  her  astonished 
countenance  ;  still,  she  wished  Betsey  would  go 
to  her  seat ; — the  bell  was  ringing  for  church, 
and  the  people  coming  in  so  fast.  But  Betsey 
seemed  to  have  something  yet  to  say,  for  she 
twisted  about  without  moving  away,  and  then 


96  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

said,  "  I  don't  know  how  it  is,  but  I  sort  o'  like 
you.  I  suppose  you  couldn't  like  me  a  scrap  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  could,  and  I  am  very  glad  you 
like  me."  A  thought  struck  Coralie,  and  she 
added  eagerly,  "  I  wish  you  would  do  right 
about—" 

"  Well,    don't    I    mean    to  ?"    interrupted 


"  Will  you  tell  about  the  cherries  ?" 

"  Well— no,"  said  Betsey,  considering.  "  But 
I  tell  you  what,  I  will  not  do  it  again." 

"  Then  you  are  doing  wrong,  for  the  Bible 
says  we  must  confess  our  sins." 

"  I  rather  think  you  don't  know  what  it  is 
to  go  and  tell,  and  get  yourself  scolded.  You 
talk  like  a  book,  but—" 

"  You  cannot  be  sorry,"  persisted  Coralie, 
"if  yon  do  not  tell.  You  cannot  be  what 
your  lesson  to-day  bids  you,  if  you  do  wicked 
things.  It  is  right  to  forsake  sins,  but  we 
must  confess  them.  I  think  that  means  pray- 
ing to  God  to  forgive  us,  and  asking  forgive- 
ness of  the  persons  we  have  wronged." 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  97 

"  Well,  I'll  say  the  prayers,  I  s'pose." 

"  Think  of  your  lesson,  and  what  you  are  by 
baptism — a  member  of  Christ,  the  child  of 
God,  an  inheritor  of  the  kingdom  of  heaven." 

"  Well,  now,  I  didn't  think  of  that,"  said 
Betsey,  half  repeating  the  words  after  Coralie, 
and  looking  wonderingly  at  her  all  the  time. 

"  God  loves  us,  and  watches  over  us."  Cor- 
alie had  turned  herself  in  the  seat  with  her 
hands,  and  had  her  eyes  eagerly  fixed  on 
Betsey.  "  God  sees  us  all  the  time ;  He  saw 
you  to-day  in  the  cherry-tree." 

"  I  did  not  think  about  that." 

"I  wish  you  would  do  it,"  said  Coralie, 
looking  distressed.  "  I  wish  I  knew  how  to 
say  something  to  make  you  think  it  right — 
and  to  Susan,  too,  for  she  helped  you.  You 
said  you  liked  me :  then  do  what  I  ask." 

"  It  is  a  pretty  hard  thing  to  ask  a  body  to 
go  tell,  when  she  can  be  just  as  sorry  without 
telling.  I  would  like  to  do  it,  because  yon 
ask  me." 

"  No,  no,"  said  Coralie,  "  not  because  I  ask 


98  COEALIE    AND   KOSALIE, 

you,  but  because  it  is  right.  God  forgives  us 
when  we  confess  our  sins.  Can  you  not  see  ? 
Please,  do — and  tell  Susan." 

The  bell  was  tolling  now,  and  Betsey  was 
obliged  to  go  to  her  seat. 

Mr.  Somerville  did  not  deem  it  prudent  for 
Coralie  to  go  to  church  in  the  afternoon.  So 
Rosalie  went  with  Honor.  Coming  out  after 
service,  Rosalie  noticed  one  of  the  new  scholars 
standing  by  the  door.  She  beckoned  Rosalie 
aside,  and  said — 

"  You  may  tell  your  sister — I  know  she  is 
your  sister,  'cause  you  look  just  like  each 
other — "  As  Betsey — for  she  it  was — paused 
here,  Rosalie  nodded  yes,  and  the  girl  pro- 
ceeded: "You  may  tell  her  I  did  it.  I  went 
and  told,  and  I'll  never  steal  any  thing  again — 
Sunday,  or  any  day.  I  rather  think  Susan 
Downs  won't,  either.  I  thought  maybe  your 
sister  would  like  to  know  that  I  told,  'cause 
she's  so  sort  o'  nice,  and  seemed  so  good. 
Here!  you  can  have  this.  I  brought  it  for 
her,  but  I  would  just  as  soon  give  it  to  you." 


THE   LITTLE    SISTEKS    OF   CIIAKITY.  99 

Betsey  put  an  egg  in  Rosalie's  hand.  "  It  is 
fresh  to-day." 

Rosalie  thanked  her  very  cordially,  and  said 
she  would  not  keep  it,  but  take  it  home  to 
Coralie,  who  she  knew  would  be  much  pleased. 
Betsey  walked  off  before  Rosalie  could  say  any 
more. 

Coralie  was  pleased  when  she  received  her 
odd  present,  and  she  felt  quite  happy  when 
Rosalie  told  her  Betsey's  message. 

"  'Tis  a  very  nice  Sunday-night  pillow,  Ro- 
sie  dear,"  she  said,  "  to  have  tried  to  teach 
some  one  right.  I  am  so  glad  of  it,  because  I 
had  thought  Betsey  so  unpleasant-looking. 
At  first,  I  did  not  want  to  speak  to  her — and 
she  could  not  help  her  looks.  I  forgot  that  I 
was  unable  to  walk  about,  like  the  others,  to- 
day. It  seemed  so  nice,  our  being  at  church 
together." 

"  But  it  is  not  nice  home,  Sunday  evenings, 
while  Cousin  Ernest  is  here.  I  wish  he  would 
not  come  to  Wyim  so  often,  and  laugh  and 
tease  us  about  every  thing  we  say,  and  make 


100  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

Aunt  Charlotte  laugh  at  us  too,"  said  Ro- 
salie. 

"  Dear  heart,  he's  only  amusing  you.  'Tis 
his  way.  My  pet  is  not  going  to  get  vexed 
to-night,"  said  Honor,  taking  off  her  glasses, 
and  tapping  with  them  on  her  hand,  as  she 
smiled  at  Rosalie.  "  See !  the  sun  is  going 
down  brightly,  and  my  Rose-bud  will  not  let 
it  sink  away  till  she  has  cleared  away  the  bad 
feeling." 

"  It  is  going  very  fast,  aunty  dear ;  but  I 
cannot  help  wishing  he  would  not  come  by 
me,"  said  little  Rose,  with  an  appealing  look 
at  her  sister.  "  I  suppose  I  must  not  mind  it. 
Oh  dear !  there  is  the  tea-bell." 

Rosalie  walked  dolefully  in  from  the  piazza, 
and  Honor  followed  with  Coralie. 

Mrs.  Somerville  was  unusually  kind  to- 
night— asking  the  children  about  the  Sunday- 
school  ;  and  interested  Rosalie  by  asking 
about  Arthur  Morton — whether  he  went  to 
church,  and  if  he  could  read. 

"  Arthur  begins  to  read  very  nicely,  and  he 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS  .OF   CHARTIY.  101 

always  remembers  the  text.  Do  you  not  think 
it  very  smart,  Aunt  Charlotte,  for  such  a  little 
boy  to  remember  texts  ?" 

This  was  a  very  brave  speech  for  Rosalie. 
She  had  never  before  ventured  to  say  as  much 
in  Cousin  Ernest's  presence.  Pat  here,  quite 
forgetful  where  he  was,  stopped,  bread-plate  in 
hand,  and  said  eagerly — • 

"  Yes,  indade ;  and  the  way  he  can  say  the 
catechism — oh  my!  — "  Here  recollecting 
himself,  his  face  became  scarlet,  and  he  rushed 
precipitately  from  the  room — deaf  to  all  Mr. 
Somerville's  calls  to  him  to  come  back,  but 
not  so  deaf  as  to  prevent  his  hearing  Mr. 
Ernest's  peals  of  laughter,  even  as  far  down  as 
the  coal-cellar,  where  he  ran  for  shelter,  and 
where  he  speedily  changed  the  color  of  his 
cheeks  by  diving,  head-foremost,  into  the 
coal. 

"  Cora,"  said  Eose,  when  they  were  getting 
ready  for  bed,  "  I  have  done  nothing  good,  as 
you  have,  to-day,  to  go  to  sleep  upon.  I  have 
not  done  any  thing,  for  anybody." 


102  COKAL1B   AND   KOSALIE, 

"  Why,  Rose,  I  am  sure  you  have  done  me 
good — you  do  always." 

"  Do  I  ?  I  am  so  glad — for  I  don't  seem  to 
be  any  thing  but  cross." 

Coralie  laughed  so  much  at  the  very  idea  of 
Rosie's  being  cross,  that  Rosalie  began  to 
think  it  was  rather  funny  too,  and  concluded 
that  she  was  not  cross  now,  at  all  events. 

Coralie  had  happy  thoughts  of  Susan  and 
Betsey,  and  she  could  not  but  remember  the 
two  girls  in  her  prayers  that  night. 

"  Are  your  children  in  bed,  Honor  ?"  asked 
Mrs.  Somerville,  who  was  going  into  the  par- 
lor as  the  old  woman  crossed  the  hall. 

"  Indeed,  yes,  ma'am ;  and  I  never  saw  a 
blesseder  pair  of  children,  or  gentler-behaved. 
I  am  thinking,  ma'am,  they  must  have  had 
the  good  training  at  home.  They  often  puzzle 
me  entirely,  with  their  old-fashioned  way  of 
saying  things." 

"  They  certainly  are  well-behaved  children, 
and  not  at  all  troublesome.  It  is  a  great  pity 
Coralie  is  so  afflicted,"  said  Mrs.  Somerville. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEE6   OF   CHAKITY.  103 

"  I  doubt,  ma'am,  with  all  respect  to  you, 
whether  she  looks  on  it  in  that  light.  She  is 
so  patient !  I  never  saw  the  child's  equal." 

"  Yes,  I  dare  say — but  they  are  very  odd. 
Just  lay  this  shawl  over  my  shoulders,  Honor. 
The  evenings  are  quite  chilly.  The  children 
are  very  unlike  other  little  girls.  I  think  they 
mope  too  much,  though.  I  acknowledge  they 
have  improved  since  we  have  been  here.  You 
must  take  them  out,  and  amuse  them  as  much 
as  you  can.  There,  that  will  do."  And  Mrs. 
Somerville,  folding  her  shawl  over  her,  entered 
the  parlor  and  closed  the  door. 

"  But  it  is  the  queer  thing  that*  the  little 
motherless  ones  has  to  go  out  of  their  own 
family  to  find  the  true  sort  of  friends,"  said 
the  old  nurse  to  herself,  as  she  walked  down- 
stairs. "A  blessing  surely  rests  on  them — 
poor  dears !  The  Lord  careth  for  the  father- 
less. I  never  was  more  convinced  of  that  than 
this  night,  when  I  looked  at  my  two  pets." 


104:  CORALIE   AND  ROSAIJE, 


CHAPTER    VII. 

THE  summer  mouths  passed  rapidly  away, 
almost  too  quickly  for  tlie  little  girls,  who 
could  scarcely  believe  the  time  for  their  stay- 
ing at  "Wynn  would  end  in  three  more  weeks. 
So  they  had  heard  their  aunt  telling  their  uncle 
a  few  evenings  before. 

They  had  now  become  so  acquainted  with 
the  country,  and  gained  so  many  friends,  that 
they  had  no  wish  to  return  to  the  city.  Cousin 
Ernest  had  been  absent  from  Wynn  the  greater 
part  of  the  summer,  and  they  had  in  conse- 
quence been  unusually  free  from  his  teasing 
ways.  And  under  the  combined  influences  of 
new  scenes,  fresh  air,  and  plenty  to  occupy 
them,  they  had  grown  happier  and  more 
healthy. 

Rosalie  had  cheeks  that  vied  with  her  name, 


THE   LITTLE   8ISTEK8   OF   CHAKITY.          105 

and  she  ran  about,  and  laughed,  actually 
laughed,  as  merrily  as  little  girls  generally  do 
when  they  are  well  and  happy.  She  was  also 
losing  much  of  her  shyness.  Coralie,  too,  had 
improved,  though  she  was  not  able  to  walk. 
But  the  country,  and  the  friends  she  had  made, 
and  Rosalie's  improved  health,  were  a  great 
source  of  pleasure  to  her.  Rosalie  could  help 
herself,  and  could  bear  to  be  spoken  to  now, 
without  disappearing  behind  her  sister,  and 
was  more  lively,  and  could  cheer  Coralie, 
when  she  was  inclined  to  be  melancholy. 

The  sewing-society  had  succeeded  admirably. 
Mrs.  Morton  had  invited  some  of  the  Sunday 
scholars  to  join  them,  and  by  Coralie's  special 
request,  Betsey  Harper  and  Susan  Downs 
were  admitted.  Betsey  was  bashful  and  awk- 
ward, but  she  managed  to  have  a  clean  face 
and  srilooth  hair,  and  really  tried  to  sew  neatly, 
and  avoid  twisting  herself  into  a  knot,  every 
time  she  was  spoken  to.  She  was  proud  of 
being  a  member  of  the  society,  and  therefore 
obliging  and  obedient. 


106  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

At  tea-time,  Mr.  Morton  would  come  out 
from  his  study,  and  always  had  something 
pleasant  to  say  to  each  one  of  them.  They 
usually  had  an  early  tea,  and  returned  to  their 
homes  before  dark.  To  the  two  sisters  the 
meetings  were  delightful. 

One  afternoon  Pat  was  drawing  the  chair- 
wagon  out  from  the  back  door,  at  the  parson- 
age, after  a  meeting  of  the  children's  society, 
and  he  had  come  for  his  young  ladies.  As  he 
lifted  it  from  under  the  steps,  Betsey  Harper 
came  up  and  stood  by  the  door-post,  directly 
beside  him. 

"  You  drive  Miss  Coralie  home  always, 
don't  you  ?"  said  she,  motioning  to  him  to  stop. 

"  Of  course  I  drive  my  young  lady  home. 
I'm  her  man."  Pat  straightened  himself  up 
and  looked  very  important. 

"Well,  now,  wouldn't  I  like  to  be  her  horse, 
and  drive  her  in  that  carriage  all  around !  Oh, 
my !  wouldn't  I  ?"  Betsey  gazed  with  fondness 
at  the  little  carriage.  "  I  say,"  said  she  again, 
"I  dreamed  the  other  night  that  she  was  a  sit- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.          107 

ting  in  that  thing,  with  her  hands  clasped,  all 
dressed  in  white,  and  looking  so  beautiful,  and 
at  such  a  distance,  yet  so  near  to  me,  that  when 
I  tried  to  touch  her  with  my  hand,  she  was  not 
near  me  at  all,  but  so  far  off,  so  very  far  off, 
that  it  made  me  cry  out,  for  I  thought  she  was 
going  away  from  us.  I  tell  you  I  was  won- 
derful glad  to  wake  up  and  find  it  was  all 
a  dream." 

Pat  whistled,  as  he  stooped  down  to  do 
something  to  the  handle  of  the  carriage. 

"  She's  regular  good,  isn't  she  ?"  continued 
Betsey. 

"  Yis,  she  is  that  same,  and  Miss  Rosie  too. 
They  try  to  be  good,  and  they  are  good.  You 
niver  saw  any  ladies  like  my  young  ladies ;  I 
tell  you,  they've  taught  me,  and  been  as  good 
to  me  as  Mickey  ever  was.  I  would  work  my 
fingers  off  for  my  two  young  ladies — and  don't 
they  know  hapes  of  things !  My !  the  way 
they  can  read  and  write,  and  do  all  sorts  of 
clever  things !  It  would  make  your  hair  stand 
on  ind  just  to  see  how  much  they  know." 


108  COEALIE   AND   BOSALIE, 

Betsey  assented  to  this  with  an  admiring 
nod  and  a  heavy  sigh,  exclaiming,  "  Oh,  if  I 
could  only  do  something  for  her  !  You  ought 
to  be  a  happy  boy,  what  has  the  chance.  I 
suppose  you  wouldn't  let  me  drive  that  thing, 
sometimes  ?" 

"  My  young  lady  is  so  used  to  me,  you  see, 
that  it  would  niver  do ;"  then  noticing  Betsey's 
look  of  disappointment,  he  added,  "  Maybe 
some  day  I  may,  for  it  is  very  sensible  in  you 
to  have  the  sense  to  admire  my  young  ladies." 
Pat  always  laid  a  stress  on  the  pronoun,  and 
he  also  made  himself  more  emphatic  than 
usual  on  the  last  word,  because  he  considered 
Rosalie  rather  neglected  in  the  conversation. 
Betsey  understood  him,  and  added — 

"  Miss  Rosalie  is  a  nice  young  lady ;  of 
course  she's  just  like  her  sister,  only  Miss  Cor- 
alie  makes  me  feel — oh,  I  don't  know,  so  sort 
of  wishing  to  be  good,  when  I  am  near  her, 
and  as  if  she  really  wanted  us  all  to  be  good, 
too.  Miss  Rosalie  is  very  nice  and  gentle,  but 
I  love  to  sit  near  Miss  Coralie.  I  like  to  see 


THE   LITTLE   8I8TEK8   OF   CHARITY.  109 

her  eyes,  they're  so  earnest  when  she's  reading 
the  Bible  lessons  in  school.  It  makes  me  get  on 
better  just  to  look  at  her  once  in  a  while.  You 
know  Susan  Downs,  the  girl  that  comes  with 
me  sometimes  ?  "Well,  she  likes  her  too ;  and 
says  she  means  to  come  every  Sunday  to 
Bchool,  and  try  to  be  good,  and  read  in  her 
Bible,  'cause  Miss  Rosalie  reads  hers  every 
day.  I'm  going  home  across  lots,  up  behind 
the  church,  for  mother  will  scold  if  I  stay  late. 
Don't  forget  your  promise  to  me." 

As  Betsey  said  this,  she  slipped  past  him, 
went  up  through  the  gate  into  the  church-yard, 
climbed  the  fence  in  a  trice,  and  went  through 
the  fields  as  fast  as  she  could  run.  Pat  had  a 
very  thoughtful  face,  as  he  drew  the  carriage 
around  to  the  door. 

The  time  for  the  Somervilles'  departure  for 
the  city  was  fast  approaching,  and  Rosalie  and 
Coralie,  one  afternoon,  counting  over  the  days 
of  their  stay  at  "VVynn,  were  sorrowful  to  find 
that  in  one  week's  time  they  would  be  obliged 

to  leave  their  pleasant  country  home.     The 
10 


110  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

house  was  beginning  to  look  dreary,  for  large 
boxes,  packed  and  unpacked,  stood  around  in 
the  hall,  and  in  the  upper  rooms.  The  days 
were  cool  now,  and  the  little  girls  could  not  sit 
as  formerly  in  the  open  air,  or  saunter  along 
the  beach. 

Still,  debarred  these  privileges,  they  cared 
not  to  leave  the  country.  It  seemed  to  them 
to  contain  quite  enough  to  make  it  a  pleasant 
home  during  the  winter  months.  Rosalie's 
eyes  would  swim  in  tears  at  the  mere  thought 
of  going  away  from  Wynn  and  dear  little 
Arthur  Morton,  and  of  relinquishing  their 
rambles  on  the  beach,  where  they  had  passed 
BO  many  pleasant  hours  gathering  shells  for 
Coralie  to  make  into  baskets,  sea-weed  for  her 
to  press,  and  the  pretty  pebbles  to  put  on  their 
shelf  of  curiosities.  She  felt  that  she  would 
miss  Arthur's  meriy  voice,  and  his  cheerful 
eyes,  in  their  dull  city  home.  She  was  telling 
this  to  Coralie  one  afternoon,  and  turned  her 
thoughts  from  her  misfortunes  with  the  consol- 
atory remark,  that  it  was  not  as  if  they  were 


THE   LITTLE    SISTERS   OF   CHABITY.  Ill 

going  to  be  separated  from  one  another. 
"  There  is  nothing  as  bad  as  that,  Cora  dear, 
is  there  ?"  said  she,  clasping  her  arms  around 
her  sister's  neck. 

"  lS"o  indeed,"  Coralie  said,  returning  her 
sister's  embrace  quite  heartily. 

So  they  changed  the  conversation  to  their 
plans  for  the  winter,  with  a  resolution  not  to 
think  of  the  present  sorrow. 

It  was  dusk,  and  they  were  sitting  by  the 
fire  in  their  own  room — that  quiet  time  to- 
wards evening,  when  sounds  that  break  upon 
the  stillness  seem  unusually  distinct ;  and  as 
they  stopped  talking  for  a  moment,  their 
attention  was  arrested  by  the  sound  of  voices. 
Coralie  said  she  thought  it  might  be  Cousin 
Ernest  and  Aunt  Charlotte,  returning  from  a 
ride. 

Ernest  had  been  up  a  few  days,  amusing 
himself — driving,  fishing,  and  shooting — in- 
tending to  return  to  town  with  the  family  the 
following  week.  He  had  gone  out  this  after- 
noon, accompanying  his  mother,  on  horseback. 


112  COBALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

The  voices  sounded  nearer  the  house,  and  they 
could  hear  the  heavy  tread,  as  of  many  feet, 
coming  up  the  gravel  path,  then  up  the  steps, 
into  the  hall,  and  into  the  parlor,  where  it 
ceased.  To  the  listening  children,  the  quiet 
that  succeeded  was  painful.  They  stopped 
talking,  and  looked  at  one  another.  Then 
Rosalie  said  she  would  look  out  in  the  hall, 
and  see  if  any  thing  was  the  matter. 

She  came  back  in  a  moment,  quite  pale, 
with  the  announcement  that  she  thought  some- 
thing serious  had  occurred.  She  could  hear 
talking  in  the  parlor,  though  the  door  was 
closed,  or  nearly  so.  It  was  getting  so  dark 
in  the  hall  she  could  scarcely  see,  but  she 
thought  there  were  two  men  standing  there. 
She  came  over  to  the  corner  where  Coralie 
was,  and  sat  down  by  her,  eagerly  listening 
for  any  sound  from  below.  At  last  she  broke 
silence — 

"  I  do  wish  aunty  would  come  up  and  tell 
us  what  has  happened.  I  do  not  like  to  go 
down-stairs,  if  any  thing  has  happened." 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  113 

"  What  could  have  happened,  Rose  ?"  said 
Coralie.  "  I  believe  we  are  frightening  our- 
selves here  for  nothing  at  all.  Look  out  again, 
dear;  it  is  better  to  know,  than  to  sit  here 
feeling  so  uncomfortable." 

Rosalie  was  glad  of  an  excuse  to  go  to  the 
door  again.  This  time  there  was  an  oil  lamp 
standing  on  a  chair  in  the  hall,  which,  in  the 
faint  light  it  emitted,  made  the  hall  look  more 
desolate  than  it  had  looked  in  the  darkness. 
Rosalie  heard  the  same  sound  of  voices,  and 
something  like  crying.  It  sounded  like  her 
aunt's  voice.  As  she  was  turning  back  again 
towards  the  room,  she  saw  Pat  walk  through 
the  hall.  She  beckoned  to  him,  not  daring  to 
epeak. 

"  O  Pat !"  said  she,  as  he  followed  her  into 
the  apartment,  "  what  is  the  matter  ?  Is  any 
one  hurt  ?  Cora  and  I  have  been  so  frightened 
because  it  sounded  so  still." 

Pat  looked  frightened  also,  and  his  face  very 
pale. 

"  O  Miss  Rosie  dear  !    Mister  Ernest— he's 
100 


114  CORAL1E   AND   ROSALIE, 

hurted  very  much — thrown  off  his  horse,  and, 
oh  dear!  I'm  feared  he's  killed,  the  mistress 
is  taking  on  so.  I  saw  them  bring  him  in. 
Oh,  it  was  dreadful !" — and  Pat  hid  his  face  in 
his  hands.  He  had  been  wandering  about  in 
the  hall,  he  said,  afraid  to  go  near  the  parlor 
door ;  and  was  very  glad  to  come  and  sit  with 
them,  for  he  felt  lonely.  "  They  sint  for  the 
doctor,  Miss  Rosie,"  said  he,  drawing  his  chair 
up  to  the  fire,  "  and  I  heerd  one  of  the  men 
say  that  it  was  a  good  three  mile  to  the  doc- 
tor's house." 

"  Is  any  one  there  besides  Aunt  Charlotte 
and  Uncle  Charles  ?"  asked  Coralie. 

"  Yis,  miss  dear,  Honor  is  there.  She  was 
in  the  kitchen,  and  Mr.  Somerville  sent  down 
for  her." 

Further  than  this,  Pat  knew  nothing ;  and 
they  sat  looking  at  each  other — listening 
eagerly,  and  with  beating  hearts,  for  any 
sounds  from  below.  It  might  have  been  a 
half  an  hour  after — the  children,  in  their 
anxiety,  thought  it  two  hours — that  they 


THE   LITTLE   8ISTEES   OF   CHAKITY.          115 

heard  a  wagon  coming  along  the  road  at  a 
rapid  rate.  It  stopped  at  the  house,  and  they 
could  hear  one  person  walking  up  the  path. 
Pat  looked  over  the  stairs,  returned,  and  said 
he  rather  guessed  it  was  the  doctor,  for  he  saw 
a  gentleman  walk  into  the  parlor  and  close  the 
door.  They  sat  down  again  by  the  fire. 

"  Is  it  not  dreadful  2"  said  Kosalie.  "  Cora, 
I  was  sorry  that  Cousin  Ernest  came  to  Wynu, 
and  now — " 

"  Sure,  miss  dear,  perhaps  it's  only  a  faint 
he's  in,"  said  Pat,  trying  to  console  her. 

"  Oh,  how  I  wish  aunty  would  come  up ! 
Did  you  ever  see  any  one  faint,  Pat  ?" 

"  Yis,  miss ;  Mickey  used  to,  when  he  took 
sick.  He  used  to  turn  all  white  like  the  snow, 
all  at  oncet ;  but  it  wasn't  as  awful  as  Mister 
Ernest  looked  to-night,  'cause  his  head  was 
bleeding."  Pat  shuddered. 

"  If  we  only  knew  about  it !  It  is  so  dread- 
ful to  sit  here,  listening  and  waiting.  Cora, 
let  us  do  something,  to  keep  from  thinking  of 
it.  Can't  we  read  something  ?"  « 


116  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

Rosalie  went  to  her  shelf  to  get  a  book. 

"Miss  Rosie  dear,  if  you  could  only  say 
some  of  thim  hymns  over  out  loud,  I  think 
'twould  sound  very  nice." 

"  So  it  would."  And  Rosalie  began  to  re- 
peat— 

"When  I  can  read  my  title  clear." 

Pat  knew  this  hymn,  and  repeated  the  words 
with  her,  though  in  a  whisper. 

After  Rosalie  had  finished,  Coralie  and  Pat 
followed  her  example,  each  saying  it  aloud; 
then  they  all  said  it  together.  This  took  up  a  lit- 
tle time,  and  made  them  feel  somewhat  better. 

Tea-time  came  and  passed — no  one  came  up. 
It  was  growing  very  dark ;  and  it  was  only  by 
the  dying  flames  of  the  wood  fire  that  the 
children  could  distinguish  one  another.  Pat 
had  offered  to  get  a  lamp,  but  they  had  begged 
him  not  to  leave  them;  and,  drawing  their 
chairs  closer  to  each  other,  and  nearer  to  the 
fire,  sat  in  anxious  expectation.  By-aud-by 
Honor  came  up,  and  they  could  see  she  had 
been  crying.  The  children  turned  to  her. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  117 

"  Ah !  my  pets,  I  came  but  for  a  moment — 
just  to  see  ye'es.  And  you  have  had  no  sup- 
per yet." 

"  Oh,  we  don't  care  for  any  thing  to  eat, 
aunty.  How  is  Cousin  Ernest  ?" 

"  Ah !  he's  very  bad — very  bad,  Eose-bud," 
replied  Honor,  shaking  her  head. 

"  Was  that  the  doctor  that  came  in  a 
wagon?"  asked  Coralie. 

"  It  was,  dear ;  but  your  uncle  has  sent  to 
town  for  Doctor  Conover,  and  they  expect  him 
in  the  morning.  I  only  came  up  to  have  a 
look  at  my  pets,  for  I  must  go  back  to  tend 
him.  I  thought  'twould  be  better  to  come 
and  tell  you  myself  not  to  expect  me  back  to- 
night, dears." 

"  Does  Cousin  Ernest  know  any  one, 
aunty  ?"  said  Coralie. 

"  He  has  not  opened  his  eyes  yet,  dear,  he 
lies  quite  still,  and  breathes  heavy-like.  We 
are  going  to  carry  him  up  to  his  room  in  a 
short  time.  Now,  good-bye,  my  pets,  Pat  will 
get  you  some  supper,  and  then  go  to  bed  like 


118  COKALIE    AND   ROSALIE, 

good  children.  Who  knows  but  what  I  may 
have  good  news  for  ye'es  in  the  morning  ?" 

Pat  gained  some  more  information,  on  going 
down  into  the  kitchen  for  his  young  ladies' 
tea,  from  the  coachman,  who  was  talking  to 
the  cook,  which  he  delivered  to  them  on  his  re- 
turn to  the  room,  somewhat  in  this  manner — 

"Mister  Ernest  went  out  riding  with  his 
mother,  and  was  determined,  notwithstanding 
all  the  mistress  said  agin  it,  to  ride  the  new 
black  horse  that  he  had  sint  down  the  week 
afore.  At  last  he  coaxed  her  into  going  with 
him,  and  you  know  Mister  Ernest  can  get  the 
mistress  to  do  any  thing  he  plazes.  Well,  they 
wint — and  about  two  miles  from  here  the  horse 
gave  the  big  lep  in  the  air,  and  away  Mr. 
Ernest  flew  off  his  back,  right  down  on  to  the 
stones.  Some  workmin  brought  him  home, 
and  the  mistress  she's  a  going  on  in  a  dreadful 
way :  and  the  master,  he  has  followed  the  mes- 
senger to  the  city  for  Doctor  Conover." 

As  can  well  be  imagined,  the  children  had 
lost  all  appetite  for  their  tea.  They  felt  heart- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  119 

sick  and  lonely  in  the  large  dreary  house,  now 
doubly  dreary,  in  this  great  sorrow  that  had 
come  to  its  inmates.  They  could  do  nothing 
but  talk  about  the  accident,  and  listen  to  the 
sounds  that  reached  their  ears  from  the  parlor. 

Pat  coaxed  them  to  eat  a  little,  and  talked 
cheerfully  about  the  doctor  from  town  making 
all  things  right.  And  in  his  own  good-natured 
way  kept  up  a  show  of  cheerfulness  he  was  far 
from  feeling,  for  he  would  suddenly  forget — be 
quite  absent — then  as  suddenly  look  up,  grow 
cheery  and  talkative. 

When  the  little  girls  were  safely  ensconced 
in  bed,  they  heard  the  same  heavy  steps  up  the 
stairs  that  they  bad  heard  early  in  the  evening, 
when  the  men  were  bringing  their  cousin  to 
the  house.  They  knew  now  that  Ernest  was 
being  carried  to  his  own  room.  They  drew 
closer  to  one  another. 

"  Rosie  dear,"  said  Coralie,  "  Cousin  Ernest 
never  went  to  church." 

"  No,  Cora,  and  he  always  laughed  so  about 
it." 


120  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

"  Would  it  not  be  dreadful  if  he  was  never 
to  get  well — never  get  so  that  he  could  like  to 
go  to  church  before  he  died  f 

"  He  is  not  bad,  is  he,  Cora  ?  I  know  I  did 
not  like  him  to  tease  us.  I  am  sorry  now.  If 
he  would  only  get  well,  he  might  tease  me  as 
much  as  he  pleased." 

"I  am  sorry  too,  Hose,  that  I  disliked  it  so. 
I  wish  we  could  do  something  for  him — if  he 
could  only  get  better." 

"  There  is  nothing  we  can  do,  Cora." 

"  Yes,  Eose,  we  can  do  something, — we  can 
pray  for  him." 


THE  LITTLE   SISTEBS   OF   CHAKITY.  121 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

ERNEST  SOMERVILLE  was  very  ill,  and  for 
some  weeks  the  doctor  feared  he  would  not 
recover.  His  father  fretted  and  worried,  and 
every  time  he  was  in  the  room  would  ask  the 
young  man  if  he  felt  any  better,  or  go  on  ex- 
peditions through  the  country  for  delicacies  to 
tempt  his  appetite ;  stopping  three  or  four 
times  some  days  at  the  doctor's  to  hear  his 
opinion  of  his  son,  and  to  ask  if  any  thing  more 
could  be  done  than  they  were  doing. 

During  this  time  the  children  were  almost 
forgotten  at  home,  excepting  by  Pat.  Honor 
had  entire  charge  of  the  sick  man,  and  could 
spare  but  a  few  odd  moments  some  days  to 
speak  to  her  darlings.  But  the  family  at  the 
parsonage  thought  of  them  at  this  time.  Mrs. 

Morton  compassionated  their  lonely  situation. 
n 


122  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

They  were  getting  dispirited,  could  not  become 
interested  in  Pat's  lessons,  grew  sad  and  silent, 
more  like  the  quiet  children  they  had  been 
when  they  first  came  to  Wynn ;  so  that,  in  his 
care  and  anxiety  for  his  son,  Mr.  Somerville 
had  no  wish  to  oppose  Mrs.  Morton's  desire  to 
take  Coralie  and  Rosalie  to  the  parsonage  for  a 
week  or  ten  days. 

It  was,  in  many  respects,  a  happy  week  to 
them,  although  saddened  by  the  remembrance 
of  their  cousin's  illness.  Pat  came  down 
every  day  to  see  them,  and  had,  usually,  a 
message  for  them  from  Honor,  and  towards 
the  latter  part  of  their  visit,  brought  more 
cheering  news. 

Although  he  did  not  appear  to  care  when 
they  left  home,  Mr.  Somerville  must  have 
missed  his  nieces,  for  about  a  week  after  he 
drove  down  to  Mr.  Morton's  himself,  said  that 
Ernest  was  rather  better,  and  that  he  wanted 
his  girls  home  again.  The  children  were  hap- 
py at  the  good  news,  and  so  pleased  that  their 
uncle  should  wish  to  have  them  again,  that  it 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEKS   OF   CHAEITY.  123 

in  a  measure  lessened  their  disappointment  at 
leaving  their  dear  Mrs.  Morton. 

Their  uncle  was  more  lively  than  he  had 
been  since  his  son's  accident ;  thanked  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Morton  cordially  for  their  kir^ness 
to  the  children,  and  spoke  hopefully  of  getting 
to  town  by  the  first  of  December,  if  his  son 
continued  to  improve. 

"When  they  arrived  at  home,  Honor  came  to 
the  door  and  took  them  in  her  motherly  arms, 
and  said  it  did  her  heart  good  to  see  them 
home  once  more,  and  Pat's  face  was  wreathed 
in  smiles  as  he  skipped  about,  waiting  upon 
them  at  the  table.  Mr.  Somerville  said  they 
must  drink  tea  with  him,  and  sitting  down  at 
the  fire  with  one  upon  each  knee,  appeared 
thoroughly  to  enjoy  himself.  He  had  been, 
he  said,  so  lonely  and  sad  that  he  wanted  them 
by  him. 

"Is  not  Aunt  Charlotte  coming  down,  to- 
night, uncle  ?"  asked  Rosalie,  after  having 
wondered  about  her  aunt's  absence  all  tea- 
time. 


124:  CORALIE   AND  KOSALIE, 

"No,  your  aunt  is  not  well,  dear, — tired  out 
with  watching ;  she's  quite  miserable.  We  must 
be  off  to  town  as  soon  as  Ernest  gets  about, 
now,  and  that  will  cure  him.  As  for  myself,  I 
think  I  would  like  it  quite  as  well  here  for  the 
next  four  or  five  months,  just  for  once ;  and 
with  my  little  girls  for  company,  and  with 
plenty  of  good  sleighing  and  such  sort  of  fun, 
we  might  pass  a  pleasant  winter;  but  your 
aunt  and  Ernest  never  would  consent  to  be 
shut  up  in  an  old  country  village  during  the 
winter  season." 

"We  were  wishing  to  stay  longer,  uncle,  just 
the  night  that  Cousin  Ernest  was  brought 
home,"  said  Rosalie,  half-shuddering  at  the 
remembrance  of  the  time ;  "  and  we  were 
sorry  afterwards  that  we  had  our  wish." 

"  So  you  have  not  liked  it  since  ?" 

"We  liked  it  very  much,"  said  truthful 
Rosalie,  "  and  we  liked  to  stay  at  Mr.  Mor- 
ton's ;  but  we  are  very  sorry  to  have  it  come 
in  such  a  way." 

"  So  you  like  it  down  there  at  the  parsonage  ? 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  125 

Well,  it  is  a  pretty  place — though  it  is  getting 
rather  winterish-looking  there  now.  What  do 
you  do  there  ?" 

"  Oh,  a  great  many  things.  Mrs.  Morton  is 
so  good — she  makes  it  so  pleasant  to  us ;  and 
Mr.  Morton  reads  and  explains  to  us  stories  in 
the  evening,  and  tells  us  about  parts  of  the 
Bible,  too." 

"  And  you  really  like  that  sort  of  thing 
better  than  interesting  story-books  ?" 

"  I  don't  think  I  like  it  so  much  as  I  ought," 
said  Eosalie;  "but  it  is  right,  and  we  must 
read  the  Bible." 

"  Why  must,  little  one?" 

"  The  Bible  says  we  must  search  the  Scrip- 
tures ;  so,  if  we  don't,  it  is  wicked.  I  don't 
always  want  to  do  it,  Uncle  Charles ;  but  Cora 
never  forgets  about  it.  She  sometimes  puts 
me  in  mind  of  it." 

"  No,  no,  Eose,  you  would  not  forget,"  said 
Coralie. 

Mr.  Somerville  looked  at  them  both,  with  a 
queer  smile  on  his  face.  He  asked  them  a 


126  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

number  of  questions  about  every  thing  they 
had  done  since  they  had  been  away.  When 
he  had  inquired  about  every  thing  he  could 
think  of,  he  said  it  was  time  for  them  to  go 
up-stairs,  fancying  they  must  be  fatigued. 

"  I  told  Pat  to  make  a  fire  in  your  room.  I 
hope  he  did  not  forget  to  attend  to  it." 

"  I  will  go  and  see,  uncle,"  said  Rosalie. 

As  their  uncle  thought  that  the  best  way  of 
ascertaining  the  fact,  Rosalie  went  up-stairs. 
Coralie,  who  had  been  sitting  quietly  some 
time,  raised  her  head  and  said  quickly,  as 
Rosalie  closed  the  door-^- 

"  Uncle  Charles,  will  you  let  me  go  and  see 
Cousin  Ernest?  I  will  not  talk.  Please,  let 
me  go  with  you,  only  a  few  minutes." 

"  I  suppose  you  might  go  for  a  moment.  I 
will  take  you  as  I  go  up-stairs — and  we  can 
meet  Rosalie,  if  she  wants  to  go,  too." 

Rosalie  did  not  much  care  to  see  her  cousin ; 
but,  knowing  that  Coralie  was  going,  followed 
them,  keeping  close  behind  her  uncle. 

The  room  was  dimly  lighted.     Old  Honor 


THE    LITTLE    SISTERS    OF   CHARITY.  127 

was  sitting  by  the  fire,  stirring  something  in  a 
cup.  Mr.  Somerville  went  over  to  the  bedside. 
Ernest  was  asleep,  and  they  thought  looked 
shockingly  pale  and  thin.  One  arm  was  out- 
side of  the  cover,  and  had  a  bandage.  He 
lay  so  still  that,  but  for  Uncle  Charles'  assu- 
rance that  he  was  asleep,  the  little  girls  would 
have  been  frightened ;  while  the  cloth  on  his 
head  made  him  look  very  unnatural  to  them. 
They  were  quite  willing  to  go  away,  although 
when  Mr.  Somerville  placed  Coralie  in  her 
chair,  in  her  own  room,  he  had  given  her  a 
promise  that  she  should  see  her  cousin  every 
day,  and  that  he  would  take  her.  And  he 
kept  his  promise,  too. 

Shortly  before  tea-time,  each  day,  he  would 
go  for  her  into  the  room.  Eosalie  accompanied 
them  sometimes,  but  not  often ;  Cousin  Ernest's 
eyes  looked  so  large  and  piercing  when  lie 
turned  them  on  her,  a  little  afraid.  But  Cor- 
alie liked  to  have  her  chair  wheeled  up  to  the 
bed,  and  would  sit  there  by  him  as  long  as  Mr. 
Somervillo  would  permit  her. 


128  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

At  first  Mrs.  Somerville  was  fearful  it  would 
annoy  her  son,  but  for  a  time  he  appeared 
scarcely  to  notice  her ;  he  was  too  ill.  Coralie 
would  sit  there,  and  watch  him  so  faithfully, 
that  Honor  trusted  her  to  give  him  the  medi- 
cines sometimes — for,  with  her  hand,  she  could 
easily  reach  the  table  where  they  were.  She 
would  also  wet  the  cloth  and  lay  it  on  his  fore- 
head, and  only  asked  to  sit  there  and  watch  him. 

Seeing  that  it  gratified  her,  and  that  she 
behaved  so  well,  Mrs.  Somerville  in  a  few 
days  became  accustomed  to  see  Coralie  wheeled 
in  towards  the  bed. 

"While  she  was  sitting  by  the  bed  one  after- 
noon, Honor  went  down-stairs  to  see  about 
some  chicken-broth  that  the  cook  was  prepar- 
ing for  the  patient,  telling  her  to  ring  the  bell 
on  the  table  if  he  stirred.  Honor  had  been 
gone  but  a  few  minutes,  when  Ernest  opened 
his  eyes.  Coralie  reached  for  the  bell,  but  he 
shook  his  head. 

"You  need  not  ring,"  he  said.  "What 
makes  you  sit  by  my  bed  so  much  ?" 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.          129 

"  I  did  not  think  you  would  mind  it.  I 
wanted  to  do  something  for  you,  Cousin 
Ernest.  I  am  sorry  you  have  been  so  very  ill. 
Can  I  do  any  thing  for  you  ?" 

"  You  can't  make  my  arm  well,  I  suppose, 
or  help  me  to  get  out  of  bed.  I  am  tired  of 
lying  here.  So  you  were  sorry  I  was  sick  ?" 

"  Oh,  Rosie  and  I  were  both  sorry.  It  has 
been  so  sad  here.  I  have  been  wishing  so  to 
come  and  see  you,  Cousin  Ernest!" 

"  Well,  that's  queer.  What  were  you  think- 
ing about  when  I  woke  up  ?" 

"  About  you — thinking  how  sick  you  had 
been,  and  how  dreadful  it  would  have  been  if 
you  had  died  then." 

Ernest  stared  at  her  very  hard. 

"  So  you  thought  of  that.    Well,  what  of  it  ?" 

"  O  Cousin  Ernest !  it  was  so  hard  to  think 
that  perhaps  you  had  not  tried  to  please  God, 
and  might  not  have  said  your  prayers  that 
day,  nor  asked  for  forgiveness — and  to  die  so 
suddenly!" 

"  Well,  you  could  not  help  that,  you  know." 


130  OOEALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

"  But  it  made  us  feel  so  sorry." 

"  You  could  do  nothing  for  me,  so  that  you 
need  not  have  troubled  yourselves  about  it." 

"  But  we  could  do  one  thing." 

"  Well,  what  was  that  ?" 

"  Ask  God  to  let  you  get  well  again."  Cor- 
alie  leaned  her  head  forward. 

"Ernest,  my  son,  talking!  I  am  afraid 
Coralie  will  annoy  you,"  said  Mrs.  Somerville, 
who  had  entered  from  her  own  room. 

"  She  does  not  annoy  me  at  all.  It  is  this 
arm  of  mine  that  keeps  me  here — that  annoys 
me.  Oh  dear !"  He  turned  quite  white. 

"  I  am  sure  that  it  is  seeing  the  child,  that 
has  worried  you,"  persisted  Mrs.  Somerville. 

Ernest  was  so  emphatic  in  his  declaration 
that  the  child  did  not  worry  him,  that  he 
exhausted  all  his  remaining  strength  trying  to 
prove  it ;  and  by  the  time  old  Honor  returned, 
he  could  only  say  that  Coralie  should  not  be 
sent  away,  and  that  she  should  come  back 
whenever  she  felt  disposed.  He  did  not  speak 
to  her  any  more  that  day,  nor  the  next ;  but 


TUK   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  131 

the  day  after,  he  noticed  her  presence,  smiled, 
and  said  he  was  glad  she  had  come  again ;  and 
told  Honor  she  might  go  out  and  take  a  stroll, 
for  Coralie  would  take  care  of  him. 

There  was  no  resisting  him,  for  he  was 
quite  determined  to  have  his  own  way,  and 
make  the  old  woman  walk  in  the  fresh  air. 
Coralie  was  gratified  to  think  that  he  cared  to 
have  her  by  him ;  she  did  not  expect  as  much. 
His  arm  pained  him  considerably,  and  after  a 
while  he  became  impatient. 

"  I  am  sick  of  it  all,"  said  he.  "  Can't  you 
tell  me  something?  I  get  so  tired  of  seeing 
them  all  fussing  about  me.  How  this  arm 
does  ache !  I  cannot  move  without  feeling 
shockingly  out  of  sorts.  Put  your  hand  on  my 
head.  There !  that's  it.  What  a  speck  of  a 
thing  it  is — and  yet  so  cool  to  my  head !  Cor- 
alie, you  are  a  comfortable  sort  of  little  thing, 
to  sit  by  a  cross  fellow.  They  all  keep  telling 
me  I  will  be  up  soon,  and  be  out  soon ;  and 
they  tire  me  so — for  it  is  all  the  same,  however 
they  may  talk." 


132  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

"  Cousin  Ernest,  if  you  lie  quite  still  I  do  not 
think  your  arm  will  pain  you  so  severely  ;  and 
if  you  try  to  think  of  something  else,  it  will 
not  seem  so  bad." 

"  I  cannot  think  ;  you  think  for  me." 

"  Shall  I  say  a  little  hymn  on  trials  we  learnt 
last  Sunday  ?" 

"Yes,  if  you  like." 

"  Trials  must  and  will  befall, 

But  with  humble  faith  I  see 
Love  inscribed  upon  them  all 
This  is  happiness  to  me." 

"  Umph !  but  that  does  not  make  my  arm 
any  better.  How  I  wish  I  could  walk  across 
the  room  once  more !  It  gives  me  the  blues 
shockingly  to  lie  here  so  helpless,  thinking — 
thinking." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  not  patient  enough.  Do 
you  ever  say  your  prayers,  Cousin  Ernest  ?" 

The  young  man's  face  flushed,  and  he  said, 
as  if  to  turn  the  conversation,  "  Do  you  ever 
get  tired  of  going  about  in  that  concern  ?" 

"  Often ;  but  I  have  so  many  enjoyments 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAKITY.  133 

here,  that  it  is  easier  to  bear  than  it  was  before 
I  came  here.  Mrs.  Morton  has  been  so  good 
to  me,  and  helped  me  to  be  more  patient.  It 
is  bad  some  days  :  when  I  see  Kose  run  about, 
I  feel  as  if  I  would  give  up  every  thing,  rather 
than  be  helpless ;  then  I  take  the  verse  Mrs. 
Morton  copied  for  me,  and  read  it  over  ever 
so  often,  and  I  get  better  after  awhile.  It  is 
a  very  good  way:  Mrs.  Morton  told  me  to 
do  it." 

"  What  verse  is  it  ?" 

"I  will  give  you  my  paper,"  said  Coralie, 
taking  it  from  her  pocket,  not  liking  to  say  it 
aloud,  and  laying  it  on  the  bed.  "You  can 
read  the  first  part  ;  that  is  not  long." 

Ernest  glanced  his  eyes  at  the  paper,  and 
saw  the  words,  "  Put  thou  thy  trust  in  the 
Lord."  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he  read  so 
far,  and  even  that  made  his  head  ache. 

"  If  you  would  try  Mrs.  Morton's  plan,"  said 
Coralie,  "  I  think  you  would  like  it." 

"  What  odds  does  it  make  ?  You  cannot  care 
much."  i 

12 


134  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

"  Ah,  but  I  do,  Cousin  Ernest,  I  care  very 
much ;  I  have  wished  so  that  you  would  get 
well,  so  that  you  might  go  to  church,  and  be  a 
good  man." 

"  Am  I  such  a  bad  man  ?" 

"  No  ;  I  do  not  say  that — but  sometimes, 
you  know,  you  used  to  laugh  at  such  things ; 
and  I  know  papa  would  say  that  was  not  right. 
I  felt  sorry  that  I  had  not  told  you  so  before, 
because — because  then  you  might  have  thought 
more  about  it." 

Ernest  looked  wonderingly  at  the  small  crea- 
ture at  his  side,  telling  him  this  so  courage- 
ously. 

"If  you  would  only  promise  me,  Cousin 
Ernest," 

"  You're  a  queer  little  witch,  and  I'll  promise 
you  one  thing,  never  to  tease  either  of  you 
again.  That  ought  to  satisfy  you."  Coralie 
shook  her  head  as  she  leaned  back  in  her  chair. 
When  Eosalie  came  in  to  see  him  that  after- 
noon, he  told  her  that  he  had  promised  Coralie 
that  he  would  not  tease  them  any  more,  and 


THE   LITTLE    SISTERS    OF   CHARITY.  135 

asked  her  to  come  and  see  him  oftener,  which 
Rosalie  very  readily  agreed  to,  now  that  he 
was  getting  so  much  better,  and  did  not  make 
his  eyes  so  stare  when  he  looked  at  her. 

November  had  drawn  to  a  close  when  the 
young  man  was  able  to  walk  around.  And 
about  the  time  of  his  convalescence,  Coralie 
was  taken  ill  with  a  sort  of  low  fever.  The 
doctor  said  it  was  brought  on  in  a  great 
measure  by  over-excitement. 

Whatever  was  the  cause,  she  was  very  sick. 
Not  one  in  the  house  but  was  grieved,  she  had 
so  won  her  way  to  their  love.  Pat  would  sit 
on  the  stairs  near  her  room  the  greater  part  of 
the  day,  in  the  hope  that  she  wTould  call  upon 
him  to  do  something  for  her  ;  then  walk  away, 
only  to  go  and  sit  by  the  little  carriage-chair, 
think  of  his  dear  young  lady,  and  cry  at  the 
thought  that  she  might  never  more  ask  him  to 
drive  her  about  the  place ;  that  he  might  never 
more  hear  that  dear  kind  voice  that  had  first 
called  him  into  the  house,  the  night  that  he 
had  crouched  by  the  tree  for  shelter  from  the 


136  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

storm,  the  dear  voice  that  had  never  addressed 
him  but  with  kindness  and  gentleness. 

Sarah  and  the  cook  tried  their  best  to  raise 
his  spirits,  for  they  liked  him  so  much  that 
they  could  not  bear  to  see  his  merry  face 
clouded,  and  Pat  would  talk  over  and  over 
again  to  them  of  the  goodness  of  his  dear 
young  lady,  and  finish  by  a  hearty  cry  without 
even  attempting  to  hide  his  emotion  in  a 
whistle. 

Through  all  the  delirium  of  fever  Coralie 
knew  her  sister's  voice,  and  had  always  a  smile 
for  her,  if  her  mind  wandered  the  next  minute ; 
and  poor  little  Rosalie  kept  up  bravely,  and 
made  strong  efforts  to  control  herself. 

When  Mrs.  Morton,  who  staid  there  and 
assisted  Honor  in  nursing  Coralie,  would  ad- 
vise her  to  go  out  of  the  room  and  walk  about, 
else  she  would  make  herself  ill,  she  would  go 
at  once.  It  was  the  fear  that  if  she  were  ill, 
she  could  be  of  no  use  to  her  sister,  that  urged 
ner  to  obedience.  But  for  this  motive  they 
could  not  have  induced  her  to  leave  the  bed- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  137 

side ;  and  this  argument  never  failed.  Even 
Arthur  could  never  draw  her  into  a  game  with 
him ;  she  would  sit  by  him  holding  his  hand, 
oftentimes  the  tears  stealing  quietly  down  her 
cheeks,  and  Arthur  in  his  childish  way  would 
strive  to  comfort  her. 

And  Ernest,  too — how  he  missed  his  little 
cousin,  missed  her  bright  smile  and  watchful 
care  for  his  comfort.  He  thought  of  her  fear 
for  him  in  his  sickness,  and  knew  well,  none 
could  know  better,  that  there  could  be  no  fear 
for  her  if  death  came.  Only  there  was  the  sad, 
sad  thought,  that  he  might  have  made  her 
young  life  so  much  happier.  When  away  from 
the  room  he  could  see  her  continually  before 
him,  as  she  lay  upon  the  bed,  her  cheeks 
glowing  with  fever,  often  asleep,  yet  with  her 
hands  clasped,  repeating  portions  of  hymns  or 
snatches  of  prayers,  or  calling  to  her  papa; 
thinking  and  talking  as  if  she  were  in  her  own 
home ;  yet  always  speaking  in  affectionate 
and  gentle  tones,  and  with  so  much  love  in  her 
heart  for  everybody,  that  it  touched  the  young 


138  OOKA.LIE   AKD   ROSALIE, 

man  more  than  any  thing  could  have  done,  and 
made  him  wish,  oh,  how  earnestly,  that  she 
might  get  well,  that  he  might  show  her  how 
he  loved  her. 

She  had  been  ill  for  about  a  fortnight,  when 
one  day  he  was  sitting  near  her.  He  often  sat 
and  watched  her  now.  Rosalie  was  on  the 
bed,  close  by  her  sister,  watching  too  ;  when 
Coralie  looked  at  her  sister,  and  said,  quite 
distinctly — 
"  Rose." 

Rosalie's  lip  quivered.     She  took  hold  of 
her  hand. 

"  Rosie  dear,  I  have  been  very  sick." 
"  Very  sick,  Cora  ;  but  you  are  going  to  get 
well  now,  and  stay  with  me." 

"  I  would  like  to  stay  with  you,  dear." 
"  O  Cora !  it  has  been  so  lonely  !" 
"  Yes,  it  has  been  lonely  enough,"  said  Er- 
nest.  "  We  must  get  you  well  soon.   "Wouldn't 
you  like  to  go  about,  and  see  how  strangely 
every   thing    looks — see   Wynn    in    a    snow- 
storm?" 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OP  CHARITY.          139 

"  I  would  like  to  get  well,  if  1  may.  Please, 
Rosie,  say  the  prayer  for  me.  It  all  goes  away 
when  I  try  to  think  of  it." 

Eosalie  knelt  by  her.  Coralie's  eyes  were 
turned  beseechingly  on  her  cousin. 

"  Cousin  Ernest,  just  this  once,  before — " 

He  knelt  down  by  Rosalie,  and  heard  her 
repeat  the  Lord's  Prayer,  with  a  strange  feel- 
ing of  awe  in  his  heart. 

Coralie  looked  after  him  with  a  happy  smile, 
as  he  left  the  room. 


140  COBALIE  AND  ROSALIE, 


CH-APTEK    IX. 

COBALIE  got  well  slowly,  but  surely.  Doc- 
tor Conover,  who  had  been  sent  for  when  she 
was  taken  ill,  said  that  if  any  child  ought  to 
get  well,  Coralie  was  that  one ;  for  she  had 
been  carefully  watched  by  the  best  nurses  that 
any  one  ever  had.  The  kind  old  man  was 
himself  delighted,  for  he  had  scarce  expected 
that  she  would  recover;  and  he  went  about 
the  house,  the  day  that  he  revealed  the  good 
news,  shaking  hands  with  every  one  he  met. 
Seeing  Pat  by  the  door,  as  he  was  taking  his 
departure,  he  took  hold  of  the  boy's  hands  and 
shook  them  with  such  heartiness  that  Pat  felt 
his  arms  ache  up  to  the  shoulders ;  but  he 
thought  that  a  mere  trifle,  and  would  have 
borne  it,  no  one  knows  how  long,  had  not  his 
feelings  of  delight  made  him  really  burst  out 
a-crying. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHAEITY.  141 

"Pshaw!  you're  a  goose,  Pat,"  said  the 
doctor,  his  own  face  getting  so  suspiciously 
red  that  one  might  have  thought  he  was  on 
the  verge  of  following  the  boy's  example,  if  he 
had  not  immediately  begun  to  blow  his  nose 
very  severely,  and  say  that  they  kept  the 
house  as  hot  as  an  oven. 

"  So  I  am  that  same,  sir ;  but  I'm  obliged  to 
you,  doctor,  for  taking  the  good  care  of  Miss 
Cora." 

"  Nonsense  !"  Here  the  doctor  applied  his 
pocket  handkerchief  to  one  portion  of  his  face 
again,  and  hurried  away. 

Pat  saw  Mr.  Ernest  at  the  top  of  the  stairs, 
as  he  turned  around,  and  he  began  a  little 
whistle,  accordingly,  to  hide  his  feelings ;  but 
it  was  a  very  ridiculous  one,  and  Ernest  said, 
good  naturedly — 

"  No  matter,  Pat ;  you'll  be  able  to  get  it 
off  beautifully  in  a  day  or  two." 

He  was  able  to  get  it  off,  though,  that  very 
afternoon  ;  for  he  retired  into  the  cellar,  where 
he  knew  he  could  not  disturb  his  yonng  lady, 


142  COBAUE   AND   ROSALIE, 

and  acquitted  himself  much  to  his  own  satis- 
faction, as  well  as  the  cook's,  who  said  to  him, 
when  he  emerged  from  his  concealment — 
"  That  was  something  like,  now." 
Coralie  had  not  thought  Mrs.  Morton  so 
really  loved  her,  till  she  heard  her  say — when 
the  doctor  was  telling  her  Coralie  would  get 
well — in  a  low  voice  of  intense  thankfulness, 
as  she  leaned  over  her — 

"  Thank  God !  my  precious  child !" 
As  Coralie  recovered,  Mr.  Somerville  once 
more  started  the  subject  of  their  return  to 
town.  The  winter  had  fairly  set  in,  and  it  was 
within  a  week  of  the  holidays.  It  was  after- 
noon, and  he  was  talking  with  his  wife  and 
son  of  the  most  expeditious  mode  of  getting 
moved  and  settled  in  a  week.  The  children 
were  at  the  parsonage — the  first  visit  they  had 
made  there  since  Coralie's  recovery. 

Ernest  listened  to  all  his  father  had  to  say, 
arose  from  his  chair,  walked  to  the  window, 
looked  out,  took  a  turn  about  the  room  and 
came  back  to  his  seat  again. 


THE  LITTLE   SISTERS  OF  CHAKITY.          143 

«  I  think,  father,"  said  he,  "  I  would  like  to 
stav  at  Wynn  this  winter,  if  my  mother  can 
find  it  endurable  here.  It  would  be  no  harm 
to  try  it,  at  any  rate.  I  am  somewhat  disabled 
yet,  and  cannot  go  out  much."  He  looked 
ruefully  at  his  lame  arm. 

"  Upon  my  word,  you  surprise  me,"  said 
Mr.  Somerville,  gazing  with  undisguised  aston- 
ishment at  his  son. 

"  Certainly,  Ernest,  if  you  wish  it,  we'll 
stay ;  though  I  warn  you,  it  will  be  intolerably 
stupid." 

"Well,  Charlotte,  we  can  but  try  it,  as 
Ernest  says ;  besides,  I  am  not  sure  but  it 
would  be  better  for  the  children." 

"  That  reminds  me,  Ernest,"  said  Mrs.  Som- 
erville, glancing  at  the  clock,  "  that  you  prom- 
ised to  go  for  the  children,  and  it  is  about  time 
now." 

Ernest  had  that  moment  been  thinking  of 
the  same  thing ;  and  Thomas — punctual  as 
usual — just  as  Mrs,  Somerville  spoke,  drove 
up  to  the  door. 


COKALIE  AND  ROSALIE, 

Truly  a  marvellous  change — that  the  aunt, 
who,  of  old,  scarce  thought  of  the  little  girls, 
and  often  had  seemed  to  forget  that  they  were 
in  the  house,  should  actually  remember  that 
they  were  out  and  must  be  sent  for ! 

The  truth  was,  Mrs.  Somerville  was  so  de- 
votedly fond  of  her  son,  that  any  thing  in 
which  he  took  pleasure  was  also  her  pleasure ; 
and,  seeing  his  altered  manner  to  the  children, 
his  growing  affection  for  them,  and  his  sadness 
and  anxiety  when  Coralie  was  ill,  began  to 
notice  and  to  talk  to  them  more.  And  she 
found  them  affectionate,  and  grateful  for  any 
attention  she  might  bestow.  Nor  could  she 
forget  the  many  hours  that  Coralie  had 
watched  by  her  son's  bedside.  She  was  fast 
feeling  a  new  pleasure  Li  being  at  home — in 
having  them  with  her ;  and  a  double  pleasure 
in  her  son's  altered  manner,  and  thoughtful 
regard  for  her  comfort. 

So  this  afternoon  she  had  actually  noticed 
the  children's  absence,  and  had  been  the  first 
to  speak  of  their  return.  Begging  Ernest  to 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS    OF   CHARITY.  145 

put  on  his  overcoat,  and  shawl  also,  for  it 
was  cold,  and  not  to  keep  the  children  too 
late— an  admonition  that  Mr.  Somerville  sec- 
onded— she  allowed  him  to  depart.  Pat  was 
upon  the  steps,  jumping  from  one  foot  to  the 
other,  and  swinging  his  arms  about  him  to 
keep  warm. 

"  Oh,  there  you  are,  Pat !  Well,  I  suppose 
you  would  like  to  ride  down  to  the  par- 
sonage." 

Pat  smiled  beamingly  at  this,  and  gave  a 
succession  of  nods,  as  he  said — 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Jump  up  by  Thomas,  then." 

Pat  scarcely  waited  for  permission  before  he 
was  in  the  seat,  and  away  they  went.  Ernest 
had  never  seen  Wynn  parsonage,  the  place  he 
had  heard  so  much  of  from  his  young  cousins. 
It  was  cold  and  bleak  to-day ;  but  the  warm 
light  of  a  blazing  fire  within,  and  the  group 
seated  around  it — which  he  could  distinctly 
see  as  he  stopped  at  the  gate — was  a  very 
cheerful  contrast  to  the  gloom  without.  But 

13 


146  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

he  was  not  gazing  so  intently  at  the  group,  as 
to  prevent  his  seeing  a  girl  standing  by  the 
gate,  who  was  beckoning  to  Pat. 

"  Who  is  that  wants  to  speak  to  yon,  Pat  ?" 

"  It's  a  girl,  sir." 

"  Well,  I  know  that ;  but  who  is  it  ?" 

"  Betsey  Harper,  sir.  She's  a  girl  that  my 
young  ladies  know.  She  attinds  the  Sunday- 
school,  and  maybe  has  come  to  ask  about  Miss 
Coralie." 

Ernest  called  to  her,  and  asked  her  what 
she  wanted. 

"  I  came  to  see  her.  I've  been  a-looking  in 
the  window  at  her — Miss  Coralie,  I  mean.  I 
ran  all  the  way  down  here,  for  I  knew  she  was 
coming  to-day,  'cause  Mrs.  Morton  said  so, 
yesterday.  I  was  so  glad  to  know  she  was 
well,  that  I  wanted  to  look  at  her.  It's  very 
late,  but  mother  wouldn't  let  me  off  before.  I 
brought  these,  but  they  got  smashed  on  the 
way."  And  Betsey  took  out  from  under  her 
shawl  two  broken  eggs,  and  gazed  at  them 
with  a  doleful  countenance.  "  They  are  fresh, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEK8   OF   CHABITY.  147 

one  yesterday  and  the  other  to-day ;  and  I  had 
to  work  hard  to  get  'em,  too,  'cause,  you  see, 
mother  calculated  to  sell  all  the  eggs.  And 
now  they're  broke !" 

"  That  is  unfortunate,  indeed,"  said  Ernest, 
striving  not  to  smile,  as  he  looked  at  Betsey's 
deplorable  face.  "  How  did  you  break  them  ?" 

"  Well  you  see,  sir,  it  is  so  cold,  that  I  put 
'em  under  my  shawl  to  keep  'em  warm,  and  I 
rather  guess  I  gave  'em  a  squeeze  while  I  was 
running.  And  they  ain't  of  any  use  now.'.' 

"  So  you  came  all  the  way  down  here  this 
cold  afternoon,  my  good  girl,  to  look  at  Miss 
Coralie.  Come  up  to  the  house  with  me,  and 
you  shall  see  her." 

Mr.  Morton  had  now  noticed  the  arrival  of 
the  carriage,  and  came  out  to  welcome  Ernest. 
They  took  Betsey  with  them  into  the  parlor, 
where  Ernest,  after  a  hearty  welcome  from 
Mrs.  Morton  and  the  children,  related  the 
story  of  the  eggs  and  Betsey's  distress.  It  was 
ample  reward  to  Betsey  for  her  loss,  to  see 
Coralie's  bright  smile  once  more,  and  feel  her 


148  COKALIE   AND   KO8ALIE, 

hand  in  hers,  and  to  be  thanked  so  prettily  for 
her  kindness. 

She  made  great  friends  afterwards  with  Pat 
in  the  kitchen,  and  was  altogether  in  high 
spirits,  although  she  reminded  Pat  that  he  had 
never  yet  kept  his  promise,  of  letting  her  draw 
the  wagon.  Pat's  promise  that  she  should  do 
so  next  year,  when  the  warm  weather  came 
again,  pacified  her. 

"  When  I  heard  that  Miss  Coralie  was  so 
ill,"  said  Betsey,  "  I  nigh  about  cried  my  eyes 
out ;  and  I  used  to  come  down  here  every  day 
to  hear  how  she  was,  for  I  did  not  dare  to  go 
near  the  house,  I  was  so  afraid  to  hear  about  it 
there,  and  there  was  no  one  I  knew  to  ask.  I 
used  to  think  those  days  that  my  dream,  I  told 
you  once,  was  coming  true,  that  Miss  Coralie 
was  going  off  far  away  from  us  all" 

The  children  in  the  parlor  had  a  good  frolic, 
and  Ernest  was  surprised  to  see  Eosalie  acting 
as  unlike  as  possible  the  quiet  child  she  was  at 
home.  Mrs.  Morton's  sweet  motherly  face, 
and  her  thanks  to  him  for  bringing  the  chil- 


THE   LITTLE   SISTEBS   OF  CHARITY.  149 

dren  to  her,  and  Arthur's  delight,  were  very- 
pleasant  things  to  see  and  hear. 

"  You  must  let  us  see  them  often  now,  for 
we  will  have  them  such  a  few  days  ;  I  under- 
stand your  father  purposes  leaving  Wynn 
within  a  week." 

"  That  reminds  me,  Mrs.  Morton,"  said  Er- 
nest, taking  Coralie  up  as  he  spoke,  to  place 
her  in  the  carriage — for  they  had  now  got  on 
their  bonnets,  and  were  ready  to  depart ;  "  my 
father  has  concluded  not  to  return  to  the  city 
this  winter.  We  think  of  trying  Wynn  the  re- 
mainder of  the  season,  and  Master  Arthur  may 
have  Rosie  for  a  playmate,  and  to  help  him 
keep  his  Christmas  too." 

Arthur  gave  a  shout  that  rang  through  the 
house. 

"  O  Cousin  Ernest !"  said  both  children,  at 
once. 

"We  are  not  to  lose  our  children  then, 
Mary.  That  is  pleasant  news  for  us,"  said  Mr. 
Morton. 

"  It  is,  indeed,  Mr.  Somerville,"  replied  Mrs. 


150  COKALIE    AND   ROSALIE, 

Morton.  "How  shall  I  thank  you?  I  had 
not  hoped  for  this." 

"  I  know  who  did  it.  It  was  very  kind  of 
you,  Cousin  Ernest,"  said  Cora. 

"  What  a  child  she  is !"  said  Ernest,  laugh- 
ing, and  hurrying  very  fast  out  to  the  carriage, 
refusing  the  oft-repeated  offer  of  Mr.  Morton 
to  carry  her,  for  that  gentleman  thought  him 
in  danger  of  injuring  his  arm.  Ernest  assured 
him  there  was  nothing  to  fear,  for  that  he  had 
become  accustomed  to  carrying  this  trouble- 
some child  some  days. 

Coralie  knew  that  he  liked  to  take  her  him- 
self, for  at  home  now  he  had  taken  Honor's 
place  ;  so  she  only  smiled  when  he  called  her 
a  troublesome  child. 

They  took  Betsey  with  them,  and  when  they 
arrived  at  the  house,  Ernest  requested  Thomas 
to  take  her  to  her  home.  She  would  have 
been  in  a  great  state  of  pride  at  going  home 
"  so  grand,"  as  she  expressed  it,  only  the  satis- 
faction of  having  sat  by  Miss  Coralie  the  first 
part  of  the  ride  far  outweighed  the  other  feeling. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.          151 

As  for  little  Arthur  Morton,  he  was  so  de- 
lighted at  not  losing  his  dear  Rosie,  that  he 
hardly  waited  for  them  to  depart,  before  he 
ran  away  to  Margery  with  the.  news,  that 
Cousin  Rosie  was  going  to  stay  all  the  rest  of 
the  time,  forever,  with  them,  and  help  him 
dress  the  church  with  Christmas  greens.  "  I 
think,  Margery,"  said  he,  "that  mamma's 
prayer  for  the  little  orphans  came  right,  don't 
you?" 

"  How,  old  gentleman  ?" 

"  Why,  you  see,  instead  of  having  no  mother 
at  all,  my  mother  is  a  mother  to  them,  'cause 
I  heard  Rosie  say  so ;  and  there's  that  big  tall 
gentleman — he  is  good  to  them,  too  ;  and  then 
their  uncle,  too,  he's  so  very  kind — " 

"  That  he  is  a  mother  to  them,  too,  I  sup- 
pose," said  Margery,  laughing. 

"  Now,  Margery,  if  you  are  laughing  at  me, 
I  will  go  away.  You  make  me  cross."  And 
Arthur  puckered  up  his  lip,  and  moved  away 
from  her.  "No,  I  won't,  either;  I'll  stay 
here,"  said  he. 


152  COKALIE   AND  ROSALIE, 

"  Dear  heart !  it  isn't  going  to  be  cross  to 
its  own  Margery.  I  will  be  as  solemn  as  an 
owl  now — I  will,  dear  old  man  ;  so  go  on." 

"  Well,"  said  Arthur,  recovering  his  good- 
humor,  "  I  only  want  to  know  if  you  don't 
think  it  has  all  come  right,  through  mamma's 
prayer.  I  have  said  it  every  night,  I  think ; 
and  when  Cousin  Coralie  was  so  very  sick — 
the  time  that  mamma  thought  she  never 
would  get  well — you  know,  the  time  you  cried 
so  in  my  curls — well,  I  said  it  then,  too ;  so 
you  see,  the  prayer  made  it  right,  after  all." 

Margery  said,  "Yes,  she  thought  it  must 
have  been  the  prayer  ;"  and  she  lifted  the  boy 
up  on  the  table,  and  brought  his  face  near  her 
own. 

"  But,  Margery,  I  said  it  for  you,  too.  You 
know  you're  an  orphan — and  I  don't  know 
whether  it  has  come  right,  but  I  suppose  it 
has."  . 

"Yes,  dear,  of  course  it  has.  Your  dear 
mamma  has  been  a  mother  to  me,  and  taught 
me  all  the  good  I  know — the  greater  shame  to 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.          153 

me,  that  does  not  know  more.  So  my  boy 
does  not  forget  his  own  Margery  ;  and  I  know 
his  prayers  will  be  heard." 

"  Well,  that  one  has  come  right,  too,"  said 
Arthur.  "  Now,  Margery,  put  me  down — I 
want  to  go  away.  Do  you  know  the  reason  I 
would  not  go  away  before  ?" 

Margery  said  "  she  had  no  idea  what  it  was." 

"Because  Eosie  told  me,  whenever  I  felt 
cross  with  any  persons,  to  stay  by  them  till  it 
went  over — until  I  felt  pleasant  again.  I  be- 
lieve I  am  pleasant  now,  and  I  would  like  to 
go  back  to  the  parlor.  If  you  would  like  to 
squeeze  my  head,  you  had  better  do  it  now, 
for  I'm  in  a  hurry." 

Margery's  opinion  was,  "  that  he  was  deci- 
dedly good-humored  at  present ;"  and,  having 
taken  the  curly  head  in  her  arms,  and  given 
it  such  a  kiss  and  squeeze  as  only  Margery 
ever  gave,  she  put  him  down,  and  he  trotted 
off  to  the  parlor. 


154  CORALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 


WHAT  an  excitement  there  was  at  Wynn 
during  the  next  week,  to  be  sure !  Cousin 
Ernest  suddenly  became  well  enough  to  go  to 
town  with  his  father,  and  returned,  after  two 
days'  absence,  with  innumerable  parcels,  of  all 
shapes  and  sizes. 

"  Coralie,"  said  Rose,  coming  to  her,  after 
having  looked  on  with  amazement  at  the  won- 
derful display  on  the  table  in  the  library,  "  it 
is  very  good  of  Cousin  Ernest  to  do  so  much 
for  us.  I  was  glad  when  he  came  home  to- 
day. Is  it  not  strange  that  we  should  like 
him  so  much,  after  all  ?" 

"  We  are  getting  better  acquainted,  and  are 
all  more  used  to  each  other.  How  much  we 
would  miss  him  now  !" 

"  Do  you  know,  Cora,  I  think  it  is  you  that 
have  made  Cousin  Ernest  so  much  nicer." 

"  O  Rose !  what  a  funny  idea !" 

"  Well,  Cora,"  said  Rosalie,  with  some  de- 
liberation, "  I  do  think  so.  He  was  very  sad 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  155 

when  you  were  sick;  and,  Cora,  lie  said  one 
day  to  me,  that  he  would  take  care  of  me 
always,  and  I  know  it  was  because  he  thought 
so  much  of  you." 

"  And  of  you,  too,  Rosie  dear." 

Rosalie  was  doubtful  on  this  point ;  but  in 
the  end  she  allowed  herself  to  be  persuaded 
that  Coralie  was  right,  and  that  it  was  for  love 
of  them  both. 

Christmas  eve,  Mr.  Somerville  had  the 
presents  all  arranged  on  the  dining-room 
table;  and  then  every  one  in  the  house  was 
called  in,  and  the  gifts  were  distributed. 
There  had  not  been  such  a  Christmas  keeping 
in  the  house  since  Ernest's  boyhood.  There 
were  presents  for  every  one — for  Honor,  for 
the  cook,  for  Thomas,  for  Sarah,  and  for  Pat — 
and  each  one  found  it  was  exactly  what  he  or 
she  had  been  wishing  for.  Pat  opened  a  par- 
cel, and  found  a  new  suit  of  blue  clothes,  with 
shining  brass  buttons ;  and  as  he  unfolded  it, 
he  found  a  package,  neatly  tied,  inside  of  it. 
When  he  opened  that,  there  was  a  beautiful 


156  COBALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

Bible,  with  his  own  name  written  in  the  front. 
Such  a  delighted  countenance  as  Pat's  was,  that 
night !  Honor  said,  "  a  real  Christmas  face." 

The  children  had  dolls  and  toys,  work-boxes 
and  books,  sugar-plums — in  short,  every  thing 
that  Cousin  Ernest  could  think  of,  he  had 
brought  home  for  them.  He  had  not  forgotten 
two  Bibles,  which  Coralie  had  asked  him  to 
bring  her.  They  were  for  Betsey  and  Susan. 
She  had  heard  Betsey  wishing  for  one  of  her 
own  once,  and  had  wanted  a  long  time  to  get 
it  for  her. 

There  was  a  pile  of  toys  for  Arthur  Morton, 
that  Pat  was  to  carry  to  the  parsonage  as  soon 
as  the  present-seeing  was  over  with. 

In  the  exciting  scene,  Ernest  was  the  first  to 
notice  Coralie's  look  of  fatigue,  and  advised 
her  to  let  him  take  her  up-stairs. 

"  I  thank  you  very  much,  Cousin  Ernest,  for 
your  beautiful  presents ;  but  I  want  something 
more.  I  wish  you  would  promise  me  one 
thing,"  said  Coralie,  when  they  were  out  of 
the  room. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  157 

"  What,  you  little  creature  ?" 

"  To  go  to  church  to-morrow.  Do,  dear 
Cousin  Ernest.  I  wish  it  so  very  much  !" 

"  You  are  a  good  little  creature,  Coralie, 
and  I  suppose  I  cannot  refuse  you." 

Coralie  held  her  two  arms  tight  about  his 
neck  for  an  instant,  and  said — 

"  That  is  a  dear,  kind  Cousin  Ernest." 

14 


158  COEALIE   AND   KOBALIE, 


CHAPTEE  X. 

COLD  and  clear  was  the  Christinas  morning 
at  Wynn.  The  little  church  had  not,  in  Cora- 
lie's  recollection,  been  so  well  filled.  The 
children  thought  it  more  like  the  Christmas- 
day  at  their  own  home,  for  their  aunt  and 
uncle,  as  well  as  Ernest,  accompanied  them  to 
church,  making  it  seem  like  one  family ;  very 
different  was  it  from  the  same  day  last  year, 
in  the  house  in  town. 

Cousin  Ernest  had,  the  night  before,  induced 
his  father  to  promise  that  the  children  should 
spend  the  day  at  Mr.  Morton's ;  for  he  knew 
that  the  arrangement  would  be  a  great  pleas- 
ure to  his  little  cousins.  Mr.  Somerville 
thought  that  the  children  ought  to  stay  at 
home  on  Christmas-day,  and  Ernest  had  to  do 
a  deal  of  coaxing  before  he  could  get  his 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS    OF   CHAKITY.  15-9 

father  to  agree  to  his  proposal ;  and  when  he 
gave  his  consent,  it  was  only  on  condition  that 
they  should  conie  home  before  dark,  and  spend 
the  evening  with  their  own  family.  This  was 
indeed  more  than  the  children  expected ;  but 
Ernest  arranged  it  all  so  nicely,  and  said  it 
was  to  be  so — and  that  settled  it. 

After  service,  they  went  home  with  Arthur 
and  Mrs.  Morton.  Coralie  had  been  some- 
what excited,  and  Mrs.  Morton  advised  her  to 
keep  very  quiet,  and  would  not  allow  her  to 
go  to  prayers  in  the  afternoon,  telling  her  she 
must  lie  on  the  sofa  while  they  were  gone,  and 
try  to  get  a  nap.  Before  going  to  church, 
Mrs.  Morton  opened  the  door  that  led  to  the 
kitchen  from  the  dining-room,  and  told  Coralie 
that  Mag  was  sitting  there,  and  if  she  wanted 
any  thing,  to  call  her.  Coralie  thought  she 
did  not  feel  tired ;  still  it  seemed  pleasant  to 
lie  there  and  watch  the  fire,  and  think  how 
delightful  the  day  had  been.  She  closed  her 
eyes,  it  seemed  to  her  for  only  a  few  moments ; 
but  when  she  opened  them,  on  hearing  a  slight 


160  COKALIE   AND   ROSALIE, 

noise,  she  saw  Mrs.  Morton  sitting  in  the  room. 
She  had  her  bonnet  off,  and  was  much  amused 
at  Coralie's  astonishment  at  her  having  re- 
turned so  soon. 

"  I  am  inclined  to  think,"  she  said,  "  you 
have  had  the  little  nap  I  advised.  Margery 
says  she  looked  hi  three  or  four  times.  Arthur 
urged  his  papa  to  take  them  for  a  walk :  so  I 
came  in  the  mean  time  to  stay  with  you." 

Coralie  could  not  but  laugh  at  herself  about 
her  nap. 

"  I  suppose  I  must  have  been  asleep,  Mrs. 
Morton,"  she  said,  "but  it  seems  such  a  few 
minutes  since  you  went  away !  I  was  lying 
here,  thinking  how  pleasant  it  all  was,  and 
how  very  nice  it  was  to  be  here  with  you  to- 
day ;  and  then  I  shut  my  eyes,  and  tried  to 
fancy  that  I  was  in  our  own  parlor.  I  rather 
think  it  was  at  that  time  that  I  fell  asleep.  It 
is  so  different  from  last  Christmas-day — the 
one  in  town.  There  we  felt  so  lonesome  and 
so  sad,  though  Uncle  Charles  gave  us  plenty 
of  toys.  I  was  afraid  we  never  would  be 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHARITY.  161 

happy;  but  it  is  all  so  nice  now,  and  to  be 
near  you !  It  seemed  so  pleasant  to  be  here 
before  I  had  that  odd  nap ;  but  when  I  opened 
my  eyes  and  saw  you  sitting  by  me,  it  was  so 
much  pleasanter.  It  makes  me  feel  so  much 
more  comfortable !  Such  a  nice  Christmas- 
day!" 

"  And  how  are  the  old  wishes,  my  lore  ?" 
asked  Mrs.  Morton. 

"  Well,  I  don't  care  to  think  about  all  that ; 
even  now,  when  I  get  very  cross,  I  say  the 
words  you  gave  me,  and  then  if  I  think  of  them 
the  feeling  goes  over.  And  after  all,  if  I  had 
not  got  sick  we  would  not  have  come  to  Wynn, 
and  never  would  have  known  you,  nor  Arthur, 
nor  Mr.  Morton.  I  think  it  is  better  than 
walking.  Oh,  yes!  very  much  better.  Did 
you  see  my  Aunt  Charlotte  and  Uncle  Charles 
at  church,  and  Cousin  Ernest,  too  ?  So  like 
Christmas  to  see  all  at  church.  Aunty  said  it 
was  good  to  see  all  the  family  going." 

Mrs.  Morton  had  noticed  it  all,  and  expressed 

her  pleasure  at  the  sight.  Coralie  was  delighted 
12 


162  COKALIE  AND   ROSALIE, 

to  hear  that  she  was  pleased,  and  did  not  forget 
to  tell  about  their  goodness  to  her,  of  Cousin 
Ernest's  kindness  to  them  both,  and  of  his 
promise  to  go  to  church  that  day. 

"  Still,  dear  Mrs.  Morton,  I  do  not  know 
what  we  should  have  done  without  you  ;  you 
made  it  so  much  easier  for  me  to  bear  things. 
Now  we  do  like  home  very  much,  because 
Uncle  Charles  does  so  much  for  us,  and  every 
one  is  so  kind — " 

"That  I  fear  my  little  girls  are  in  some 
danger  now  of  being  spoiled  by  indul- 
gence." 

"  I  had  not  thought  of  that,"  said  Coralie. 

"  No,  love,  I  dare  say  not ;  but  it  is  best  to 
be  watchful." 

Here  Mr.  Morton  came  in  with  the  children. 
He  sat  down  by  Coralie,  and  taking  Arthur 
on  one  knee  and  Rosalie  on  the  other,  begun 
to  tell  about  their  walk,  and  before  he  got  half 
through,  Cousin  Ernest  came  for  his  cousins  to 
go  home.  Rosalie  said  the  only  fault  she 
found  in  the  day  was  its  shortness.  Ernest 


THE   LITTLE    8ISTEE8    OF   CHARITY.  163 

waited  long  enough  for  them  to  sing  the 
Christmas  hymn — 

"  While  shepherds  watch'd  their  flocks  by  night." 

Mrs.  Morton  accompanied  them  on  the  piano 
while  they  all  sang.  Arthur  got  his  Prayer- 
book,  a  Christmas  present,  and  the  first  one  he 
ever  had,  and  stood  up  by  his  papa.  Ernest 
thought  it  very  pleasant  to  hear,  and  wished 
he  knew  it  well  enough  to  join  them.  After- 
wards Arthur  was  reminded  by  his  mamma  to 
thank  Mr.  Somerville  for  the  beautiful  toys 
which  he  had  sent  him,  which  he  did  very 
prettily  ;  and  he  also  said,  "  I  wanted  to  play 
with  them  to-day,  but  papa  and  mamma  said 
it  was  better  to  wait  until  to-morrow." 

"Well,  have  you  passed  a  happy  day, 
Cora  ?"  said  Ernest,  when  he  was  carrying  her 
to  her  room  that  night. 

"  Yes ;  so  happy,  Cousin  Ernest,  so  very 
happy." 

""Well,  will  it  make  you  any  happier  if  I 
promise  to  go  to  church  every  Sunday  ?"  He 
said  this  in  a  whisper. 


164:  COEALIE   AND   BOSALIE, 

"  Oh !  will  you  ?  It  has  all  come  right  after 
all— O  Cousin  Ernest !" 

He  did  not  speak  again  just  then,  but  as  he 
placed  her  in  a  chair  in  the  room,  there  was 
something  of  reverence  in  his  manner  towards 
her  as  he  kissed  her  on  her  forehead.  Then  he 
leaned  against  the  mantel-piece,  and  looking 
down  on  her  he  said,  "There  is  nothing  else 
you  want  to  make  you  happy  ?  How  about 
walking — would  you  not  like  to  be  able  to 
walk?" 

"  I  think  I  would,  but  it  is  better  than  walk- 
ing to  have  every  thing  so  pleasant,  Cousin 
Ernest,  and  Mrs.  Morton's  text  is  the  best  cure 
for  that  trouble." 

"Just  let  me  hear  it  before  I  go,  little 
cousin." 

«  « Put  thou  thy  trust  in  the  Lord,  and  be 
doing  good.'  " 

"  O  Coralie,  little  Cousin  Coralie,"  said  he, 
looking  down  on  her  ;  then  hearing  a  step  he 
added,  "Ah,  there  is  Kosie.  Now,  Kosie,  if 
you  will  give  me  a  kiss,  and  tell  me  that  you 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHABITY.  165 

have  had  a  happy  Christmas,  I  will  go  down 
stairs.  I  know  Honor  is  not  far  behind,  for  I 
can  hear  her  shaking  the  house  with  her  heavy 
tread  upon  the  stairs."  Rosalie  willingly  gave 
the  kiss,  and  as  willingly  said  she  had  spent  a 
happy  day. 

It  was  so  bright  a  night,  the  moon  shining 
so  very  clearly,  that  Honor  proposed  that  they 
should  open  the  blinds,  that  they  might  enjoy 
the  beauty  of  the  moonlight.  Pat  just  put  his 
head  in  at  the  door  to  say  good-night,  and  the 
children  asked  him  to  come  in  to  talk  all  about 
the  day  at  Mr.  Morton's,  and  to  hear  Pat's 
glowing  account  of  their  pleasant  time,  of  the 
beauty  of  the  church,  with  its  wreaths  of  green 
about  the  walls,  and  to  give  Betsey's  and 
Susan's  thanks  to  the  young  ladies  for  the 
presents  they  had  sent  them.  He  was  very 
joyous. 

"  Indeed  then,  miss  dear,"  he  said,  looking 
about  the  room,  "  it  seems  the  very  same,  the 
night,  now,  as  in  the  city  where  we  used  to  sit 
together,  and  Miss  Cora  used  to  tell  about  the 


166  COJRAME   Am>   KO8ALIE, 

grand  plans  for  doing  things  when  she  got  big, 
and  about  being  a  sister  of  charity." 

"Ah,  Pat,  it  is  different,  because  I  have  con- 
cluded not  to  think  of  it  any  more,  because 
Mrs.  Morton  showed  me  that  it  was  not  right 
to  be  looking  forward  to  that,  but  to  be  con- 
tented with  things  as  they  are,  trying  to  do 
the  little  good  we  could  around  us.  And  I 
don't  know, — I  think  I  have  tried  to  do  so.  I 
hope  I  have.  Rosie,  dear,  I  suppose  it  is  very 
good  to  do  that  when  we  grow  up,  but  it  is 
not  right,  Mrs.  Morton  thinks,  to  live  so  in  the 
future." 

"  Ay,  my  pets,"  said  Honor. 

"  Indeed,  miss  dear,  it's  I  that  knows  it,  and 
haven't  both  of  ye'es  been  a  doing  for  a  poor, 
ignorant  fellow  like  myself,  iver  since  your  two 
dear  selves  brought  me  out  of  the  cold  storm, 
a  poor  wandering  boy  ?  And  you  teached  me 
from  your  own  dear  lips  all  the  good  I  iver 
knew,  till  I  came  to  this  place,  when  the  minis- 
ter, thanks  to  his  kindness,  tried  to  teach  such 
a  dunce  as  myself." 


THE   LITTLE   BISTERS   OF  CHAEITT.  167 

"  O  Cora,  you  are  a  dear  good  girl,  and  we 
are  very  happy  now,  but  I  cannot  help  wishing 
you  could  walk  a  little." 

"Tis  better  than  walking.  I  told  Mrs. 
Morton  so,  to-day." 

Kosalie  cannot  say  that,  but  she  adds,  "I 
will  try  to  do  better,  Cora.  We  are  with  so 
many  kind  friends,  it  is  easier  to  be  good  now 
that  we  are  happy.  Dear  old  aunty,  we  will 
never  forget  our  first  friend  ;"  and  Kosalie 
climbed  into  her  lap,  and  covered  her  wrinkled 
face  with  kisses. 

"  Aunty  knows  that,  Kosie,"  said  her  sister. 

"  O  miss,  dear,  I  can  do  nothing  for  ye'es,  it 
is  too  cold  to  drive  the  little  carriage,  and 
so—" 

"  You  must  not  say  that,  Pat.  Tou  are 
always  kind.  What  should  we  have  done 
without  you  ?" 

"  O  Miss  Cora  dear !  thank  you  for  that 
same,  and  I  wish  it  was  more." 

Pat  gives  a  little  whistle  to  hide  the  tremble 
in  his  voice,  and  tries  very  hard  to  look  sol- 


168  CORALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

emn ;  but  he  does  not  succeed  at  all,  for  his 
eyes  laugh  so,  that  his  face  soon  feels  it  and 
goes  into  its  sunshine,  do  what  he  will  to  keep 
it  back.  After  Pat  had  gone,  they  sat  quite 
still  for  awhile.  Then  Coralie  asked  Honor  if 
it  is  not  nice  to  have  all  their  happiness  about 
Christmas  time. 

The  bright  moon  streams  into  the  room,  and 
falls  on  Coralie  as  she  sits  with  Rosie's  head  in 
her  lap.  As  she  raises  her  head,  Honor  sees 
the  bright  eyes  softened  with  a  quiet  solemnity. 
This,  and  the  light  shining  on  her  head,  for  an 
instant  almost  startle  the  old  woman.  She 
murmurs  a  blessing  on  her  darlings,  and  prays 
that  God  will  keep  them  always  as  now,  un- 
spotted from  the  world. 

On  returning  to  the  parlor  from  his  cousins' 
room,  Ernest  found  that  his  father  and  mother 
were  talking  about  the  children. 

"  I  wish  she  could  run  about  as  Rosie  does," 
said  Mr.  Somerville,  and  these  were  the  first 
words  that  he  heard.  "  I  cannot  see  how  she 
stands  it ;  though  she  doesn't  stand  it  after  all, 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHAKITY.  169 

does  she?"  Here  Mr.  Somerville  stopped 
talking  a  moment  to  laugh  at  his  own  witti- 
cism. "  Doctor  Conover  thinks  there  is  very 
little  hope  of  her  recovery.  Poor  little  patient 
thing!" 

"  They  are  certainly  odd  little  things ;  but 
here  is  Ernest,  who  seems  to  have  taken  a 
fancy  to  them  at  last,  even  with  all  their 
oddities,"  said  Mrs.  Somerville,  looking  at 
her  son.  "  I  feel  quite  used  to  them  now 
myself." 

"  Odd  as  they  are,  Honor  says  no  person 
has  better  children  than  her  babies ;  and  Pat 
said  to  me  to-day :  '  Sure,  sir,  there  is  no  nicer 
young  ladies  in  the  United  Country  than  my 
young  ladies.'  They've  fairly  snuggled  them- 
selves into  the  minister's  family,  too,"  said  Mr. 
Somerville.  "  That  Cora  is  the  exact  counter- 
part of  her  father.  He  was  a  good  fellow — so 
full  of  energy  and  earnestness." 

"  What  a  curious  idea  of  theirs,"  said  Mrs. 
Somerville.  "  Honor  was  telling  me  about  it 

to-day.     I  believe  she  came  in  my  room  for 
15 


170  COKALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

the  express  purpose  of  talking  about  them. 
She  says  they  have  talked,  ever  since  they 
have  been  with  us,  about  being  sisters  of 
charity  when  they  are  grown  up." 

"  Who  ever  heard  of  such  a  thing?  What 
an  idea  for  the  children  to  get  in  their  heads!" 
cried  Mr.  Somerville. 

"  It  is  my  opinion,  father,  they  will  not  have 
to  wait  until  they  are  women,  for  that  has 
already  come  to  pass." 

"  Their  father  over  again,"  added  Mr.  Som- 
erville. "  I  don't  know  what  you  think  of  it, 
Charlotte,  but  it  seems  queer  to  me  to  see 
those  children  an  example  for  all  of  us  ; — yes, 
they  certainly  are  sisters  of  charity, — our  little 
Coralie  and  Kosalie !" 

"That  is  true  enough,  father, — in  their 
kindness  and  love  for  others.  Mother  dear,  I 
fear  it  is  we  that  are  the  most  odd,  not  to 
understand  them  better ;"  and  Coralie's  words, 
"  It  will  all  come  right  at  last,"  came  into 
Ernest's  mind,  as  he  arose  and  handed  his 
mother  her  candle. 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF   CHABITY.         -171 

She  looked  at  him  earnestly. 

"  You  are  very  fond  of  Coralie,  Ernest." 

"  You  are  right  about  that,  mother.  How 
can  one  know  her,  and  not  be  fond  of  her,  and 
respect  her,  too  ?" 

"  The  feet  is,  I  do  too,  and  there  is  no  use 
in  denying  it,"  said  Mr.  Somerville,  stoutly. 
"  'Tis  wonderful  how  fond  one  gets  of  chil- 
dren, having  them  in  the  house.  All  I  hope 
is,  that  no  one  will  spoil  them.  Ernest, 
remember  you  are  not  quite  as  strong  as  a 
lion  yet,  and  must  not  sit  up  late.  Good- 
night, my  boy." 


Mrs.  Morton  is  in  Arthur's  room,  standing 
by  his  bed. 

"  Good-night,  dearest  mamma,"  he  says. 
"  Tell  papa  it  is  as  bright  as  if  it  was  day,  and 
I  will  have  to  say  over  the  Christmas  hymn 
till  I  can  get  asleep.  I  hope  Rosie  and  Cora 
see  the  bright  moon  to-night. 


172  COBALIE   AND   KOSALIE, 

"  '  While  shepherds  watch' d  their  flocks  by  night, 

All  seated  on  the  ground, 
The  angel  of  the  Lord  came  down, 
And  glory  shone  around.' 

"  And  glory  shone  around,"  repeated  Arthur ; 
"  as  the  moon  is  shining  now,  mamma. 
Please  to  tell  Margery  to  look  out  at  it." 

Instead  of  drawing  the  curtains  and  lighting 
the  lamp,  as  she  had  at  first  intended,  Mrs. 
Morton,  when  she  went  down,  stood  by  the 
window,  gazing  upon  the  quiet  scene  without, 
thinking  of  Arthur's  innocent  voice  and  of  the 
line  he  had  just  repeated  to  her.  She  did 
not  hear  her  husband's  step,  or  notice  that 
he  had  entered  the  room,  until  he  was  by 
her  side. 

"  I  have  been  up  to  Arthur,"  said  he,  "  to 
say  good-night.  He  is  lying  very  quietly — he 
says,  'putting  himself  to  sleep  with  his 
hymn.' " 

"  Yes,  the  dear  boy ;  he  has  been  very  good 
to-day,  and  so  pleased  to  have  the  little  girls 
here.  I  feel  more  like  saying  our  two  little 
girls,  for  I  consider  them  as  part  mine.  I  am 


THE   LITTLE   SISTERS   OF  CHARITY.  173 

BO  thankful   for  Coralie's  recovery, — the  pa- 
tient-tempered child !" 

"  Yet  her  illness  has  been  a  benefit  to  Rosa- 
lie. It  has  taught  her  to  rely  more  on  herself, 
and  to  conquer  that  timidity  which  was  so 
painful  to  witness,"  said  Mr.  Morton.  "  And 
it  has  brought  out,  too,  so  much  affection  and 
kindness  from  their  relations,  that  one  could 
hardly  wish  it  had  been  otherwise.  We  know 
too,  Mary  dear,  that  it  is  all  for  the  best, 
whichever  way  it  is.  They  have  done  so 
much  good  in  the  class  by  their  example,  by 
their  attention  to  their  lessons,  and  their  wish 
to  do  right.  I  pray  God  that  I  may  strive  to 
do  my  duty  towards  our  sweet  little  sisters  ot 
charity.  When  I  "saw  Betsey  Harper  with  her 
new  Bible  to  day,  and  knew  her  wish  and 
determination  to  study  it,  and  witnessed  the 
improvement  in  her ;  and  the  boy  Pat,  with 
his  love  and  respect  for  his  young  ladies,  and 
their  teaching  him  so  well ;  and  when  I  saw, 
too,  for  the  first  time,  all  the  Somerville  family 

at  church  this  morning,  and  Coralie  sitting 
15* 


174: 


COKALIE  AOT>  KO8ALIE. 


among  them  with  her  happy,  earnest  face — 
the  promise  came  forcibly  to  my  mind,  '  They 
that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of 
the  firmament,  and  they  that  turn  many  to 
righteousness  as  the  stars  forever  and  ever.'  " 


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